The Lovely Wounds
by TheGraveyardChild
Summary: This is a Hetalia, SpaMano Human AU. Beware of cursing and errr... Other things. This is a Yaoi fic. The setting takes place in modern setting. Other ships involved, but predominantly SpaMano.
1. The Tomato Bastard

High school was much harder than Lovino had thought with his younger brother, Feliciano, clinging to him. It wasn't surprising how people were head over heels for his cuter, little brother by the time lunch came around, but Feli's constant clinging made people actually notice him, too. He had worked hard to remain the smart, unnoticed kid that sat in the back of every class. In just one day, however, the previous year's hard work had gone down the drain. The only questions he had gotten from his peers were those that pertained to his brother. Lovino had tried his hardest not to crack, not to curse at someone, anyone who asked about Feli. For now it had worked, but at the beyond frustrated Italian reached the lunchroom, he found it increasingly difficult to shut out the bantering behind him.  
"Lovino! High school is so fun! Everyone is so nice! The teachers are nice and so are my new friends! None of them are bullies! I would hate to have a friend that's a bully because if we fight, they could beat me up, and if they beat me up, I would be hurt! I don't want to be hurt! If I'm hurt, I can't enjoy my pasta because I'll think too much about the pain. I don't want to be without my pasta or I'll be sad. And Grandpa Roma knows when I'm sad, so he'll go beat up the person who made me sad. Lovino! Please don't let Grandpa Roma beat up my friend!"  
Lovino shook his head as he passed under the arch leading into the loud, food filled cafeteria. Feliciano's spiels were often pointless and irrelevant, but all he could do about his brother's nonsense was to grin and bear through it. He decided to seclude himself in the back of the lunchroom. The freshman just padded on behind him.  
Just as Lovino and Feli were sitting down, a Spaniard approached the duo. Feli let out a squeal of delight and to his brother's dismay, invited him to join them. It was fine at first. Lovino could manage, but soon things got strange. The bastard hadn't stopped smiling, hadn't stopped staring. What was his problem? How could this Spaniard be so happy when they were sitting in this hellhole Grandpa Roma called school? Lovino's only conclusion… this kid was crazy. And why did Feli have to invite him? Could this bastard tell that Lovino didn't enjoy his company or his presence?  
The Spaniard had introduced himself to Lovino as Antonio Fernandez Carreido, a senior, like he cared. He had intended on remaining anonymous for as long as he could, but those plans went right down the drain with the others. Feli just had to open his mouth yet again.  
"I met you earlier Antonio Fernandez Carreido! You have such a funny name!" Lovino quickly cuffed his brother over the head. The boy quickly looked down at his pasta. The sadness didn't last as long as Lovino had hoped it would, however. "Oh! You know me! I'm Feliciano Vargas, but everyone calls me Feli. You can pick! Oh! This is my brother Lovino. Grandpa calls him Lovi, but Lovino says I'm not allowed to which isn't that fair. He may seem all tough and mean and scary looking, but he's nice when you get to know him and you don't give him any wine. He'll curse at you in Italian if you do. But other times he'll dance and sing with pretty girls and play guitar!" Lovino's cheeks burned at his brother's words, but Feliciano pressed on. Antonio only laughed. "Oh! Some people think we looked like twins, but it's easy to tell us apart. Lovino is taller and has darker eyes. He looks more like Grandpa and I look more like Mamma. And he's a year older than me. He's a sophomore and I'm a freshman! Oh! Antonio! You don't have a lunch! Take this tomato! I picked it this morning!"  
The Spaniard graciously took the fruit from Feli and exclaimed, "Gracias a mi amigo! Oh, Lovino you've been here longer than I have and I don't know my way around here well. Do you mind showing me around?"  
Antonio's question threw Lovino off guard. How long had he been at the school? Why did he have to ask him? "Whatever…" Lovino responded heavily. Antonio laughed again, causing Lovino to blush for the second time. What was is it about this Spaniard that set Lovino so ill at ease. "Shut up…"  
"Don't mind him, Antonio!" Feli had jumped in at the last second. "He's just not used to people talking to him!"  
"That's not true!" Lovino lied through gritted teeth, glaring angrily at Feli. He was always made the bad guy. He really wasn't. It was just that people… pissed him off.  
"But Lovino, you told me that-!" Feliciano was thankfully cut off by a very strange accented voice.  
"Carreido! Vargas! Why are you so far towards the back, mes amis?" Lovino turned back to see to see a blonde boy with blue eyes. His accent could only be French. Two others flanked him, but Lovino couldn't quite see their faces. They were obviously a trio of soccer players. "Didn't we ask you two to sit with us? Oh! Who is this? Feliciano, mon ami, you did not tell me you had a twin!"  
"Oh! This is my brother Lovino! We look like twins, but we are really not!"  
"Is he funny like you?" asked on of the other two boys who stood behind the French kid. His accent was clearly American like most kids in the school. The boy pushed forward and gave a bright, toothy smile. From what Lovino could already tell that the boy's personality resembled Feli's. They could have been brothers aside from the boy's glasses, blue eyes, and blond hair. No. They could never be thought of as brothers. "We could use more of a sense of humor since Mr. Serious over here doesn't like my jokes!"  
"But of course he is!" Antonio exclaimed, polishing his tomato on his sleeve. "What Vargas isn't?"  
"Don't tell them what I am and what I am not, you tomato bastard!" Lovino yelled, snatching the fruit from Antonio.  
"Tomato bastard?" asked a deep voice with the dialect of a German. The third boy stepped forward. He was obviously older than the American, but possibly the same age as the Frenchman. "Where did you come up with that one?"  
Lovino was stunned. He didn't know how to answer. Usually people were offended by his insults, not curious. "I err…"  
"Lovino says stuff like that all the time!" Feli quickly exclaimed. It was the truth, but he had never meant it to be funny.  
Lovino just shook his head at the three blonds. They were already frustrating him. He glanced back at Feliciano and Antonio to find Antonio staring at him. Why was he always staring? Those green eyes were so unmoving and bright. So beautiful… Antonio smiled to himself. Shit! Had Lovino really stared back? Had he really thought Antonio's eyes were beautiful? Lovino shook his head with disgust and looked to the ground. Luckily the Frenchman broke the silence.  
"Oh, mes amis! I have forgotten my manners! I am Francis Bonnefoy, a senior. These are my companions Alfred Jones and Ludwig Beilschmidt. Alfred is a freshman and Ludwig is a junior."  
Francis and Alfred smiled ear to ear, but Ludwig kept his strong, stern expression. All three gave expectant looks to Lovino as if they wanted something from him. Their blue eyes bore into him, but he didn't get a hot flash like he got when he found Antonio staring at him. No. That was an entirely different feeling. The eyes of the three blondes felt as if they were boring into Lovino's utter being and soul, especially those belonging to the German. Great. He was the center of attention. This was exactly what he didn't want to happen. Maybe if Lovino stayed quiet, they'd go away. But that wasn't the case. It didn't seem like if ever would anymore. Not after the American spoke.  
"He's just as quiet as Ludwig, ain't he?" Alfred exclaimed, breaking the silence that had be caused from the boys' stares. "I think he'll be a good friend to him. Let's just all sit over here!"  
Francis looked as if he was weighing his options and Ludwig just started back towards his table. He grabbed his notebook and sat across from Feliciano. Francis and Alfred followed his lead, bringing back their own belongings. Antonio hadn't said a word in a while, and Lovino wasn't surprised to find him staring yet again. Was Lovino that interesting that he had to have the Spaniard watching his every move? He thought not. Was he going to hate this group that had joined his table that had once represented solitude? Yes. He probably was.  
Lovino's thought process was interrupted yet again by loud yelling from across the lunchroom. In fact, the entire room was quiet aside from two heavily accented voices going off at each other. A sigh came from Ludwig. He seemed to know what was already going on. The German stood and started towards the two arguing boys. They both had white hair, but one was shorter than the other. The taller one wore a long brown trench coat and held a walking cane. It was unlikely that he actually needed it. The shorter one looked a little like Ludwig. Could it be… no… it couldn't? Lovino raised his eyebrows in shock. This kid had to be Ludwig's younger brother. There was no other explanation for their similarities.  
Ludwig stared at the two arguing boys and they fell silent. He grabbed the shorter of the two by the ear and pulled him away from the taller one. His stern expression had changed to a look of disappointment. The snow-white haired brother looked pissed. Ludwig brought him to the table and forced him to sit down.  
"Uh…" Lovino mumbled, trying to break the tension. "Is he your younger brother?"  
"Nein…" Ludwig said, running his hands through his hair. "This is my _older_ brother, Gilbert…"  
Older? That took Lovino by surprise. "I, er…"  
"Ja, most people think that… Except he's quote unquote _Prussian,_ " Ludwig muttered, rolling his eyes.  
"I am Prussian!" Gilbert yelled, crossing his arms over his chest.  
"Ja, sure, and I am the younger brother of the King of England."  
"You are?" Feliciano asked excitedly.  
"No Feliciano," the German said with a laugh. "It was just an example."  
Feliciano stared at him for a long moment then looked down. "Oh."  
"Mon ami, I thought you told me you talked to Gil about this!" Francis muttered, a puzzled expression spreading on his face.  
"Ja, I did… He didn't listen. Again," Ludwig muttered, closing his eyes.  
"I listened. I just don't care!" came Gilbert's loud response.  
"Give him an ultimatum!" the French said with a laugh. "Have him either sit here and shut up or send him home to your grandfather."  
"Oh shit…" Gilbert muttered. "No! C'mon Ludwig! You don't want to do that. C'mon bro, I thought we had something."  
"I'm about to slap you, Gilbert."  
"But Ludwig-"  
"Nein! Now behave… or go home."  
"Okay… Fine…"  
Lovino saw the other boy stick out his tongue. Wow, real mature. Lovino wasn't sure how much more of these people's antics he could stand when suddenly the bell rang. He was literally saved by the bell. Almost. Just as he was about to stand to leave, Antonio gave him a look and winked.  
"You're going to show me around, right?"  
Lovino gave an uneasy nod. He didn't have the guts.


	2. The Bad-Touch Trio

The silence of nightime... Lovino craved it after a week of Feliciano's obnoxious friends. The French-speaking bastard and his two equally obnoxious, foreign companions. These three had caused hell for Lovino. He had dubbed them the 'Bad-Touch Trio'. And, hell, did they live up to their name. Antonio, Gilbert, and Francis caused trouble wherever they went. Despite Lovino's meticulous plans for avoiding them, they'd dragged him into quite a few of their schemes. This time, however, left Lovi baffled.  
The three foreigners sauntered down the street to Vargas house while Lovino was mindlessly playing guitar. His fingers ran against the metal strings of the Breedlove acoustic softly. He had a natural talent for playing the instrument. He plucked out a few cords, the melody from 'In My Arms' by Plumb resonating from the guitar. He found himself humming and singing.  
 _"Rains will pour down, waves will crash around, but you will be safe in my arms..."_ he sang just as her noticed the trio walking towards his door.  
The bell rang only moments later.  
God no. He couldn't answer it... he had to pretend he wasn't home. He wouldn't be caught up in any more of their antics. Of course his heart fell to his stomach when Feliciano opened the door with a cry of delight. Only moments later, Lovino had sprung to his feet to slam and lock his door. There was no way in hell he was letting them in. This was one of those times that the Italian was grateful for having his own room. Lovino settled back onto his bed, leaning back against the pillows. Laughter filtered its way through the walls, reaching Lovino's ears. He shuddered and shook his head, letting loose a yawn.  
The sun was already setting outside. Lovino found himself drifting off to sleep in the twilight, his chest riding and falling evenly. Just as the tendrils of sleep were about to envelope him, the door to his bedroom burst open. Lovino sat up quickly, looking around.  
"I knew Grandpa had a spare key!" Feliciano exclaimed, holding up a small, silver object. "He keeps it for when he thinks Lovino has a pretty girl in his room."  
The peals of laughter echoed throughout the small bedroom. They belonged to the _Bad-Touch Trio_. They advanced further into Lovi's room, taking a look around.  
"Your room is cleaner than mine," Francis said simply, his brow raised.  
"Yeah and?" Lovino shot, snorting slightly. "I don't have to be messy pig, you do realize..."  
Francis shrugged, walking to the closet. He flipped on the light and began to rummage through the clothes. Lovino stared at him baffled.  
"What the hell are you doing?" he stammered.  
"We're going out. Antonio, you've got the tight jeans, right?" Francis paused and looked at Antonio expectantly. The Spaniard held up a bag, wagging his eyebrows. "Okay. Get those on him, and I'll find a shirt..."  
Lovino stared at the two of them like a deer caught in headlights. "Get the hell at way from me, bastards!" he yelled, hopping to his feet. He had to make at way run for the door. There was no way in hell he could let these lunatics dress him to 'go out'. God no. Just as Lovino was inches from the exit of his room, a strong hand grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. Fuck. He had forgotten to watch for Gilbert. The 'Prussian' had latched onto him with a strong hold and had no intentions of letting go. That left Lovino with one choice. He managed to slip his body from his t-shirt before darting for the landing. Freedom from these crazy bastards was so close... and totally out of reach. Lovi had run into a tall blonde. Ludwig. Where the hell had he come from? As if on cue, Feliciano started yelling. "Gilbert!" he called, his voice shrill and happy. "Ludwig is here! He said he's either going with you or you're not going at all!"  
Lovino got his final chance at escape then and there. He bolted past Ludwig while he and Gilbert argued in German. He took the stairs two at a time, making it down them in three seconds flat. He slipped into the first floor bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him. He locked it and plopped to the ground. That was obnoxious... god, Lovino couldn't stand Feliciano's friends. They only dragged him along so Feli could go. Grandpa wouldn't let him leave otherwise. Lovino was his damn chaperone. God, was that frustrating.  
The Italian waited for the house to quiet down, waited for the entire group to at least head to the backyard. Hopefully Feli discarded that key somewhere, too. Lovino took a quick look out of the bathroom window that overlooked the backyard. He saw the ground sitting out back, laughing under the setting sun.  
With a soft sigh, Lovino crept from the bathroom to the stairs. His steps were light and silent. If anyone were inside the house, they wouldn't have heard him. His ascent up the stairs was quick. There was no way he was getting cornered again. Lovino immediately slipped into his room once he reached the upstairs hallway, slamming his door behind him. He flipped the lock and collapsed on his bed without turning on the light. Freedom. Sweet, sweet freedom. After a moment, however, Lovino felt as though something was off. He slowly stood only to be pinned back to his bed by strong hands.  
Lovino's heart leapt to his throat and he let out a squeal of surprise. He was beyond freaked out. He had been attacked. He was just about to begin to plead with his attacker when he realized just who it was. He could make out the male's features in the dim light. Green twinkling eyes and curly brown hair. It was the Spaniard, the tomato bastard. Lovino's heart suddenly beat faster and he felt warm all over his body. He was totally embarrassed. He didn't even have a shirt on! Not knowing what else to do, Lovino let off a full verbal assault.  
"Get off of me, you fucking creepy ass Spanish bastard!" he yelled, flustered. "You don't sneak up on someone and pin them down in their own bedroom! What are you, some kind of rapist?"  
Antonio only laughed, his knees straddling Lovino's sides and his palms pressed into his shoulders. God, if Grandpa walked in on this, Lovino would be dead. The Italian's heart raved uncontrollably. Why wasn't Antonio moving? The fucking bastard was enjoying this, enjoying Lovino's embarrassed face. Just went Lovi was about to start another verbal attack, when he felt fingertips slip under the waistband of his flannel pajama pants. A yelp escaped Lovino's lips as he pushed violently against Antonio's chest. The Spaniard only laughed.  
"Calm down, Lovino!" he said with a chuckle and that lilting Spanish accent. "I'm just trying to get these jeans on you like Francis asked."  
Lovino let out a groan of irritation. He thought Antonio wanted something else. Of course he only wanted to get Lovino ready to go out. How could he have been so stupid?  
"Get off of me," he ordered, his face red in embarrassment. "I'll change myself."  
Antonio moved and turned on the lights. "Here are the jeans. And this is the shirt Francis picked out. With these shoes..." he mumbled, handing a pile of clothes to Lovino. "Hurry up and change."  
Lovino waited for the Spaniard to leave, his brow furrowed deeply. After a moment, he asked, "Do you plan on leaving or staring at me while I change."  
"How can I guarantee that you won't lock me out?" Antonio shot, wagging his brows once again.  
"Bastard, at least turn around," Lovino barked, rolling his eyes. Antonio immediately turned his back to the Italian, allowing him to change. After a moment of trying to get the tight jeans past his butt, Lovino gave an exasperated groan. "How the fuck do you get these damn things up your ass?"  
Lovino suddenly felt a warm presence at his back. Antonio had his chest hovering inches from Lovi's bare skin. Subconsciously, his heart sped up. What the hell was Antonio doing? He tugged on Lovino's jeans upward, slipping them up to his waist. The Spaniard even zipped and buttoned them despite Lovino's grumbled protests. He then planted his hand firmly on the Italian's butt, laughing.  
"You sure do have a nice one, Lovi," he chuckled, squeezing lightly. Lovino's heart sped up like rapid-fire. His skin burned from embarrassment. He stood stock still under Antonio's hold. "Lovino?"  
Oh god, Antonio was speaking to him. Lovino froze. He didn't know what to say. Fuck. He managed to spit out a simple 'what'.  
Antonio took a while to ask his question. He left Lovino hanging in silence with a palm pressed to his butt and burning cheeks. "Why don't you have a girlfriend? You could easily get one, you know."  
Lovino was confused. A girlfriend? Why the fuck was this tomato bastard asking him about that? Why did he care? "I don't want one. I piss girls off. They don't like me."  
Antonio let his hand drop as he plopped down onto Lovino's bed. He looked amused. "Don't let them think that. You're so much more than that. I-"  
A fist pounded down on Lovino's door, cutting Antonio off. Lovino screed over and opened the door. Francis stood there, a single hand on his hip. He had an amused look on his face.  
"Good job, Toni. He looks fantastic," he chuckled. "Now get that shirt on him and let's go. We already have Feli ready. We're waiting on you."  
Lovino burned with embarrassment once again. He quickly snatched up the shirt Antonio had given him before. He slipped it over his head, shooting Francis a glare. He then put on his shoes and stood up straight.  
"Did you intentionally put me in clothes to make me look like a hipster?" Lovino asked, exasperated.  
"Yes, and what ah masterpiece you have become!" Francis exclaimed, ushering both Antonio and Lovino from the room.  
The Italian was once again being dragged into the mindless antics of the Bad-Touch Trio. For fucks sake… Lovino was ushered into a car… With Antonio at the wheel. This was going to end badly.  
The tomato bastard was driving and Lovino was crammed in the back, confused shitless. Antonio had been saying something before Francis barged in. His hand had been gripping Lovino. Our had felt weird but good... oh God! What was he thinking? This was wrong. Antonio shouldn't have touched him like that. What would Feliciano think if he found out? Oh God! Lovino shuddered involuntarily, his eyes glued to the window. What was he to Antonio? Surely he was nothing more that a friend. But his hands had gotten so close, had slipped under Lovi's waistband. The thoughts set a heat spiraling towards the Italian's crotch. Oh God, he was wearing tight jeans. If anyone noticed the slight bulge...  
Why was Lovino thinking about this? He had to clear his thoughts. He didn't think of Antonio like that. Hell, he was 16. He liked the pretty, blonde girls. He didn't like men! He couldn't like men, especially not Antonio. Not the Spaniard whose soft, slightly calloused hands pinned him down to his mattress, whose knees straddled Lovino's sides. God, he couldn't be interested in Antonio!  
Before he knew it, they had arrived at their destination: a local teen club that Lovino would never be able to have fun in. He didn't like people at all. They pissed him off. Antonio pissed him off for causing him to have to hide himself. Lovino slowly walked into the club just after noticing a sign.  
Guys Only Night.  
Lovino was not gay! Feliciano was not gay! Why were these guys dragging them in here? Lovino longingly looked back at the entrance. There was no going back. He was stranded in the pounding music and flashing, colored lights. There was only one good thing in this situation. The Bad-Touch Trio as well as Feli and Ludwig would not be provided with any source of alcohol…  
Lovino was left on his own while the rest of the group went to enjoy themselves. He, on the other hand, went straight to the drink counter and sat near a few people he vaguely recognized. One was obviously British by the way he spoke. There was also a fancy, rich kid with brunette hair that seemed totally out of place. The other two looked identical. They had to be brothers and one had to be the obnoxious American, Alfred. It took them a moment to recognize Lovino.  
"Hey!" one of the two Americans yelled. That one was Alfred. Oddly enough, he was wearing some World War 2 bombers jacket. "Lovi! That funny Vargas! Matt! I was telling you about this guy! He called Antonio a _tomato bastard."_ Alfred dragged out those last few words slowly, punching the arm of the boy that sat next to him.  
Lovino blushed a bright crimson, his brow furrowing. He didn't want the attention the loud American was giving him. "Uhh…"  
The boy Alfred had called Matt interrupted. "Don't listen to him. He's loud and obnoxious," he said, offering a small smile. "I'm Mathew, Alfred's _Canadian_ half-brother."  
Lovino raised a brow. He was so distinct on the fact that he was Canadian. "I'm Lovino…" he managed to stutter. "I'm not gay. I got dragged in here." Oh god! Why the hell did he just say that? He could have kicked himself.  
Mathew chuckled. "Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio drag you out of the house?" he asked, eying the three crazy friends dancing in the center of the room.  
"You can say that, yeah.. Uhh. Who are they?" Lovino gestured to the British kid and the rich boy.  
"Ah… Arthur and Roderich. Roderich got dragged in here by Alfred along with me and Arthur…" Mathew chuckled, hugging a small stuffed polar bear to his chest. "Oh and this is Kumasuji. My polar bear."  
Oh. How stereotypical. A Canadian with a polar bear.  
"Matt, how many times do I have to tell you?" Alfred asked. "His name is Kumajiro. Why can't you remember the name of your own mascot?" Mathew shrugged simply. "C'mon Arty! Let's go dance!"  
"No! You bloke! I don't want to dance!" Arthur yelled, cursing profusely at Alfred as he was dragged away. Lovino looked back to Mathew a little confused.  
As if knowingly, he said, "Oh. Yeah. They have a thing. Arthur thinks nobody knows when virtually everyone in this room has caught them sucking face at some point."  
Lovino couldn't help but be a little amused. He watched Arthur and Alfred leave and Gilbert approach.  
"Hello, boys and lady," he roared with a wide grin. Lovino wasn't sure whom Gilbert was referring to when he said 'lady'. There wasn't a single girl in sight. Lovino didn't have long to ponder that subject. Gilbert answer the question only moments later. "Yes, that was directed towards you, Roddy. Now come get off your prissy throne and let's go!"  
Roderich snarled at Gilbert, waving his hand dismissively. "Why would I go anywhere with the likes of youf?"  
"Don't be such a pansy. I'll carry you out if I have to." Gilbert took a menacing step towards Roderich.  
"Don't you dare, you barabaric- Ahh!" Gilbert unceremoniously lifted Roderich from his chair and over his shoulder, stopping him from whatever he was going to say. "Gilbert! Put me down! We're in public!"  
"Hey, I gave you the option, Roddy. Now suck it up or I'll make you like a good little boy," Gilbert teased, walking away from Mathew and Lovino.  
The stared at them while they left, Gilbert carrying Roderich and Roderich pounding on Gilbert's back.  
"They have a thing, too. Roderich doesn't like to admit it and neither does Gilbert. It's totally apparent, though," Mathew chided. He seemed to know everything about the lives of these high school kids. "Alfred told me it was some sort of BDSM type stuff. I didn't want to hear anymore after that."  
Lovino looked at Mathew a little wide-eyed. "That's gross! Why doesn't anyone help him?"  
"Roderich? Oh. Cause they find it funny." Mathew shrugged then suddenly ducked. "Fuck!"  
"What?" Lovino asked, confused.  
"Francis is looking for someone and I can only guess it's me."  
"Why?"  
"Francis used to screw just about any guy, but as soon as I came around, that changed. He's determined to 'win my heart' so to speak."  
"Uhh… Go hide in the bathroom?" Lovino offered, his brow furrowed.  
"Yeah. And have him corner me in a stall so he can serenade me with his horrid singing and his delicious chocolates. I don't think so!"  
"I don't know what else to tell you."  
"I'm going to hide! If he asks for me, you don't know where I am!" Mathew called, melting into the sea of teenage boys.  
Francis swayed through the crowd, stopping in front of Lovino. He held a thin-stemmed glass that could have held wine or champagne. "Have you seen my wonderful Canadian and his little polar bear, Little Lovi?"  
Lovino shook his head. "Uhh… No. He just disappeared."  
Francis looked a little downcast before sauntering away with his glass. He went off to talk to Antonio. And suddenly, Lovino felt terribly alone in this crazy, hot room. He didn't know what to do or who to talk to. His little brother was off only God knows where. Mathew was hiding from his French stalker. And Antonio was enjoying the night with that same Frenchman. He was so alone with no one to talk to. His just listened to the blur of laughter and conversation over the pounding music.  
"…vino," a lilting, Spanish accent said.  
"…such a sourpuss. Why do you…" That was Francis.  
"I don't…asshole…interested…" Antonio.  
Lovino was so confused… But by the uttered _vino_ , he knew they were talking about him. He found himself drawing closer and closer to the two seniors, straining to hear what they said.  
"He's strange…" Antonio said his brow furrowed.  
"…almost forced yourself on him?" Francis asked incredulously.  
"I couldn't ever…he's too afraid…" Antonio laughed a little after saying this.  
"Do what I did before…"  
What Francis did before? Mathew has said something about that before. _Francis used to screw just about any guy._ So Francis was telling Antonio to have sex with him? Oh God!  
"…Okay."  
Just as Antonio said those two syllables, Lovino was behind him. Francis was silent. Lovino was fuming, pissed off beyond relief. Antonio didn't have a clue he was even there.  
"You're an asshole," he yelled, stepping in front of Antonio. Lovino pushed him back roughly. "So that all it is to you? Screw a guy and move on? That's just fucking disgusting! Gross!"  
Antonio stared at Lovino wide-eyed and in disbelief. "Lovi, I-"  
"Don't call me Lovi!" the Italian yelled, pushing Antonio back again.  
"I didn't-" Antonio stammered.  
"Don't talk to me!" Lovino roared, shoving Antonio until he stumbled back. He was off guard and caught red-handed. Lovino advanced again, but Francis grabbed his arm tightly. Lovino looked back at him, his eyes stinging with tears. "Don't touch me. Don't approach me ever again. Don't come to my house. Don't talk to Feliciano. Stay away!"  
Lovino turned on his heels, darting for the entrance before he could be stopped. He saw Feli on the way out and grabbed his wrist, dragging his little brother behind him. Feliciano protested, but Lovino ignored him giving him a lame excuse: he had a headache. They had at least a mile to walk, and Lovino craved the silence. Feliciano walked glumly for a while, but was back to his normal self, pointing at the lit up signs around town.  
By the time they were home, it was late. Lovino felt empty and tired. He went straight to his room without saying goodnight to Grandpa and Feliciano. He just wanted to sleep, to get the entire last week out of his mind.  
He hated Antonio Fernandez Carreido. He never wanted to speak to him again. But if that was true, why did this hurt so much?


	3. A Dark Hour

A few Months had passed and the snow was already falling. Lovino watched the individual flakes flatten themselves against his windowpanes, his breath leaving small foggy patches on the glass. It was mid-December. Finals were already coming close. Everything was stressful and depressing in Lovino's life despite the happy season.  
Christmas was just around the corner. Feliciano was downstairs with Grandpa, finishing off the last of the decorating. Lovino hadn't participated in that festivity in years. He felt he was too old to decorate the house while singing Christmas carols. No. He preferred to leave the house with his guitar over his shoulder in search of some guaranteed silence. That was what he needed. He needed to get out of the house with his acoustic.  
Lovino peeled himself away from the window, his dark eyes lingering on the falling flakes for only a moment longer. He managed to pull off his pajama bottoms and threw on some jeans. He then grabbed a long sleeve shirt and pulled it over his slender body. The Italian had begun to work out over the last few weeks in the school's weight room. He had lost some of the fat on his belly and replaced it with developing muscles. Nobody really knew but Lovino, but he didn't care. He did it to fill the odd void of time between school and dinner. He'd rather not be home when Feli had _guests._ Those guests usually included either a loud American and his quiet brother or a single, quiet German. What Feli did with that said German… He didn't want to know.  
Even though the exercise filled time, it didn't entirely get rid of the hole that was growing in Lovino's life. He was depressed. He didn't know how to fix it, either. He had tried. Even talking to Mathew didn't lift his spirits. Nothing did.  
Lovino tightened the laces of his converse before throwing on his down coat. He had to dress warm. Where he was going it was going to be bitter cold. He was headed towards the beach on the edge of town. It was nearly Winter. Snow was falling. Why was Lovino going there? He wanted to be alone. No one else would be there at this time of year. Lovino could sit on the rocks near the shores, playing his acoustic.  
Grandpa and Feliciano were singing Christmas carols horribly off tune when Lovino pounded down the stairs. The offered him kinds smiles and he shot back an amused glare. He couldn't help but want to scold the two of them for being so childish. He would have only a few months ago. After meeting Lily, he learned to envy his brother and grandfather's sense of childhood. The childhood he'd never have. They didn't let growing up get in their way. If only Lovino could learn.  
"I'm going out," Lovino called as he opened the door. "Be back later." Maybe.  
"Come back before eight! The temperature is dropping!" Grandpa called before returning to sing _Carol of the Bells_ with Feliciano, horribly off tune.  
Lovino stalked into the brisk afternoon, his breath coming out in icy puffs. He tugged down on his hat, that same, unruly curl stick up in the air. He never managed to hide it even with his hat. He chuckled to himself and shoved his hands into his pockets. He managed to make the ten-block walk quick. His only motivation was the idea of being able to play his guitar. Once again, he walked the streets alone. It was too cold for any sane person to want to walk. Lovino guessed he wasn't sane.  
Sand crunched beneath the boy's feet as he walked towards the rocks near the water. An icy wind blew at him, but he didn't care. He'd much rather sit here than in his house or at the park. He sat on a rock and tucked his legs beneath him. He pulled his guitar from its case and set it in his lap. His fingers found the strings easily. But he couldn't find the will to play long. The waves that crashed in front of him seemed so dark. They almost felt inviting to Lovino's depressed state of being. Slowly he placed his guitar back into its case and zipped it shut. He then pulled off his coat and shoes. The cold made the hair on the back of his neck and on his arms stand on end. He didn't care. He slipped his t-shirt over his head and sighed. He had an idea of what he was going to do. Nobody would care, anyways. Feliciano was too simplistic to figure it out. Grandpa had much more to worry about than his ornery grandson. Lily, she would eventually forget about him. He was almost positive Antonio already had.  
Antonio… Just the thought of him brought back a nagging pain that Lovino didn't understand. Why did he feel that gut wrenching emotion every time Antonio's name came to mind? Did he actually like Antonio? No. He couldn't like that bastard. No.  
Lovino pushed Antonio entirely from mind, turning back to the dark, tossing waters. He stepped towards the dark ocean that seemed to be calling to him, his toes touching the icy sand. He kept going until he was at the point where the water met the shore. There was no going back now. He was going to do it. Lovino took one more step forward, stepping into the icy ocean. No turning back. Despite the cold, Lovino pressed forward, him zombielike gaze focused on the outer ocean. He kept walking, slowly bringing himself further and further into the salty waves.

Lily had been following Lovino for quiet some time. She had hoped he'd eventually notice her, but by the way he walked with such purpose, it didn't seem possible. He had his guitar on his back. She recognized it immediately. She had listened to him play on a few occasions. He never knew she was there after that first time. She had kept well hidden. She enjoyed listening to his melodic guitar playing. He was a virtuoso on the instrument. If she came from her hiding spot, however, Lovino would no doubt stop playing due to embarrassment. She couldn't let that happen. She wanted to listen. She had always just wanted to listen.  
She had intended to do just that this time, too. That is until she saw him take off his shoes and coat then his shirt. She was confused by his actions in the freezing cold. The realization hit her as soon as Lovino tossed his clothes to the side and started walking towards the water. She hadn't wasted a moment. She knew what Lovino wanted to do. He was going to drown himself in those cold waters. She couldn't just sit there and watch, either.  
Lily bolted for the nearest form of help. There was no way she'd be able to fight those waves. She needed someone else to get Lovino. If she went out there, they'd both be dead. She couldn't stand to make her brother suffer through her funeral. Just the thought of it made her stomach churn. Oh god, why did the residential area have to be so far away from the beach?  
The small blonde ran faster than she thought she ever could. It had to be the adrenaline talking to her. Her eyes were focused on the rows of houses in front of her. She picked the first one she saw with a light in the window. She bounded up the stairs and pounded on the door ferociously. Her heart was racing. She was so afraid. She just hoped Lovino hadn't gotten out too far. The wait for someone to answer the door was agonizing. When someone finally did, she realized that it wouldn't work. This man was older with long hair. She recognized him as Aldrich Beilschmidt. She didn't want to make the older man go out into the icy water. No. His body wouldn't be able to take that.  
"Sorry, Sir!" she yelled, running down the steps and towards the next house. "Wrong door!"  
"Lily? Why are you out in this cold without any shoes?" he asked incredulously.  
Right. Lily wasn't wearing shoes. Again. She had a slight problem with that. "I'll put some on later! I'm a little busy!"  
Lily ignored Aldrich's orders, bounding up the steps of his neighbors. She pounded on this door just as viciously. This time the door opened almost immediately. A teenage boy of about eighteen or so opened it. He was tall enough to be the currents and he had a muscular build to him. Perfect. Lily spoke before he even had a chance to give a simple greeting.  
"My friend, he's trying to drown himself! He's out in the water! But I'm too small to go out there and get him! Please! Help him!" Lily pleaded, her voice shrill and worried. She looked at the boy who stood over a foot taller than her, her green eyes filling with tears. "Please!"  
The boy nodded. "Where is he?" he asked, slipping on a pair of shoes that sat by the door. He also grabbed a blanket from the couch.  
"Beach!" Lily yelled, darting down the steps. The run back towards the beach felt like it would take ages. She didn't know much longer Lovino had, either. He could already be dead. No. She had to shove that image from her mind. The footsteps of the boy behind her at least gave her some comfort.  
The beach was so close. She could see the shores where she had run back, but Lovino was nowhere to be seen. She scanned the churning waves, panic rising in her chest. She couldn't be too late! No! Lily ran down onto the shores, the tears that were in her eyes before spilled down her cheeks.  
"Lovino!" she screamed, her shouts shrill. She stumbled up on top of a rock, screaming his name over and over. She was so afraid.  
Lily looked back to the other boy, her face red. She gave him the most pleading look but he seemed distant, frightened even. Did he see Lovino out in those icy waves?  
"Do you see him?" Lily asked, her voice cracking as she spoke.  
The boy only briefly nodded before shooting down the beach, ripping off his jacket and kicking off his shoes as he ran. Lily didn't know what had suddenly gotten into him, but she only hope he'd bring back Lovino alive.

Lovino was cold, but he couldn't find it in himself to be afraid. He wasn't. He didn't fear dying, not anymore. Maybe as a child he had, but now when he felt the weight of everything finally sinking onto him… Lovino's blank gaze looked forward. He wasn't turning back. He had no intentions of it. No one was out there to stop him. No one would find him, either. He'd either wash out to sea or wash up on shore. Either way someone would find his guitar and clothes. He only hoped someone would tell Grandpa and Feliciano.  
The water was rising to Lovino's mid-chest. He found himself shivering as he pressed against the currents. He didn't look back once. He never saw Lily running from the shores for help. If he had, things might have changed in his mind. He didn't once think of her as he pressed into the deeper water that now reached his nipples. He hadn't yet forced himself to actually swim, but he was almost to that point.  
The waves were monstrous and dark. Foam formed when at two collided, spraying Lovino. The ends of his hair were wet, but that same curl still refused to lay flat despite all odds. He figured it wouldn't lie flat even if he took it to his grave.  
The water had now reached Lovino's neck, and it was becoming harder to press forward. He kicked of the sandy bottom, digging his numb arms into the salty ocean to drag himself forward. Everything was so loud around him he could barely hear himself breathing. The waves crashed around him knocking him around. When a large wave suddenly crashed over him, Lovino braced for impact. The she force of the water dragged him under. He no longer knew which way was up and which was down. The salt water burned his eyes. He couldn't see.  
In the mess of the confusion and panic, Lovino let out the breath he had been holding in. It all dawned on him then and there. He was going to drown. He was going to die if he didn't get back to the surface. Lovino pressed in the direction he prayed was up. Sweet and bitter relief filled him when his head broke the surface. Then a sickening dread shrouded him.  
There was yelling coming from the shore. It was faint, but Lovino still heard it. The girlish screams. Lily. She was there on the shore, looking for him. God! She couldn't come out into the water. He prayed she didn't. Her small body would be tossed through the waves and she'd surely drown.  
Another wave slammed down on Lovino's frame, dragging his back under the blackened water. He didn't have the chance to suck in a breath. He was fighting on any remnants of oxygen left in his lungs. Which way was up? Which way was down? Lovino could only believe it was a miracle that brought him to the surface a second time.  
The shouts had continued, but this time there was only one and it was male. It was too familiar, too heartbreaking. It made Lovino's blood run cold. Antonio. How had he gotten there? What was happening? He sounded so close! Was he coming out into the water to rescue Lovino? Oh God! No! The damned bastard was going to get himself killed. The thought made Lovino's chest ache. He didn't know how to react. He could only struggle against the wave that was forming behind him.  
This barrier of water was larger than the two previous. This one would surely kill him. It was enormous. The water slammed down, dragging Lovino down into the depths with it. The breath was knocked right from him. He instinctively sought to take in another, but only water filled his mouth and lungs. It burned worse than any other pain Lovino had imagined possible. His vision was already becoming splotchy and cloudy. He couldn't tell which direction to go. He just couldn't get it through his fuzzy mind. The last thing Lovino thought when everything went black: he'd never had the chance to kiss that sparkly-eyed tomato bastard.

Lovino. The little, blonde girl had said a name that Antonio dreaded to hear in this situation. Beautiful, frustrating, crazy Lovino out in those waters attempting to drown himself. The screams the little girl put off set Antonio into action. There was no way in hell that he was letting Lovino drown. He could barely see his shoulders bobbing above the water from where he stood, but knew just about where he was.  
The Spaniard bolted for the water, tearing off his jacket and shoes as he went. He was glad he was only wearing basketball shorts. The weight of his jeans would only make swimming more difficult. He didn't even hesitate when reaching the water. He ran through without stopping. The water was like needles on Antonio's tanned skin. He had to brace the shocking cold without a second thought. He wouldn't think about it. He couldn't let something as trivial as hypothermia get in the way of him getting to Lovino. That stubborn Italian couldn't have been more stupid! Going out into the ocean to kill himself while Antonio had sat around for months, fantasizing about holding him! Why was fate being so cruel?  
The Spaniard searched the waters desperately, his green eyes frantic. He spun, looking for that stretch of skin that marked a human. He couldn't pinpoint it. He couldn't see Lovino. The panic was setting in. What if he couldn't find him? What if he couldn't find the one he wished to learn so much more about? Antonio hardly knew Lovino, but he had grown to love that look in his eyes, that unsure look that he could decipher. Behind Lovino's copper eyes Antonio saw a longing, a longing that was only there when he was looking towards him. Antonio needed to see it again…  
Antonio fought to get past the waves while he searched. The despair was rising in his chest. He hadn't seen Lovino break the surface after the last wave had toppled him. Had he actually completed his goal? No. Antonio could not think like that. He pressed forward, calling Lovino's name repeatedly. His voice was full of desperation, but it was not to be heard. There was absolutely no response. The hope was falling from Antonio's mind. He could barely breathe. The sudden crushing feeling was grabbing hold of his chest. Lovino had been under the water for too long. He was dead.  
Antonio couldn't help him. He couldn't save him. He couldn't save the only person he had ever come close to loving. If he had tried to convince him before… if he had only explained better after the night at the stupid teen club. But he hadn't and Lovino's body was now out somewhere in the cold water. He was dead and it was all Antonio's fault. The feeling left Antonio completely drained of everything including the will to live. Would it be right to die when that little girl was counting on him? When Feliciano would need someone to talk to and seek consolidation from? No. He couldn't abandon his life just yet. Antonio had to find Lovino's body at least. He had to bring something back for Lovino's family. He owed Lovino that much.  
Antonio dove under the waves, peering into the darkness. But hands had him back above the water only moments later. Lovino? Antonio turned around to see a scuba diver. No! Why? Why were they trying to drag him back towards the shore? Couldn't they tell that he was searching so diligently, so desperately? Antonio pulled away from them, refusing to give up. He had to find Lovino.  
"Stop! No! I can't leave him!" Antonio screamed, pulling back His voice cracked. Tears were dangerously close to spilling over his lids and down onto Antonio's cheeks. He couldn't hold them back anymore. He stopped fighting and gave up. He allowed the divers to lead him back towards the sandy beach.  
The cold had finally settled over his body. He was shivering, and he was almost positive his lips were changing to different shades of blue. Antonio noticed a few cars on the shore. There were a few police cruisers as well as an ambulance. The last car was the news channel. Who had found out? How had they- Antonio had left his jacket on the shore that contained his cell phone. The little girl must have called someone to help find Lovino just as Antonio was going out.  
The reporter that was with the new channel was a woman. She stood in the sand in front of a camera. She was talking about Antonio. He could hear her clear as day. Her voice was sad, but it still had a bit of enthusiasm.  
"As far as the police have told us, a teenage boy, Lovino Vargas, 16, was spotted walking into the ocean. Another boy that is currently unknown to us is now returning to the shore. He went in after Vargas to see if he could save him. It seems as though the search was futile. We will keep you updated. With the local news, this is Katyusha Braginski, reporting."  
The woman waited until the cameras were off before breathing a sigh of relief. She turned to Antonio with a pained look. "Will you tell me what happened?" she asked.  
The diver that was leading Antonio shot the woman a cold look before ushering Antonio to an ambulance. He was stripped of his soaking clothes by a paramedic and given many blankets. The nurse checked him for frostbite, but she had been surprised when she told him he was free of it. He only had a bad case of hypothermia. She also said he'd probably get pneumonia. Antonio didn't pay attention to any of it. He was too focused on his own thoughts.  
He only wished that someone would come and tell him Lovino was alive… That Lovino had survived. Antonio was sure he'd be driven to drink after this. He knew he'd end up fighting with his best friends. He was an empty, hollowed shell of what used to be a flamboyant boy in love.  
Antonio sat on the floor of the ambulance, blankets wrapped tightly around his numb skin. He listened outside while helicopters flew over. This search was only a few minutes and everyone had responded so quickly. A few minutes ago he had seen Lovino alive and well.  
There were all sorts of yelling by the cops to keep gathering civilians from the scene. They didn't want to have anyone else drown tonight, Antonio expected. But there was something odd. Some of the voices that were demanding to get past were familiar. Roma and Feliciano. No. They couldn't find out like this. They shouldn't have to face the news of Lovino's death. Antonio found himself creeping from the ambulance, looking at Feliciano directly. His cheeks were stained with tears and his hands were in his hair. He seemed broken completely. His older brother was dead. Roma looked just as bad as Feliciano, but he had managed to keep the tears back. His voice was strained when he yelled. He sounded like he was going to crack.  
"Where is he?" Roma demanded, holding a sobbing Feliciano to his chest. "Where is my grandson, dammit?"  
The cop Roma was yelling at seemed flustered. "Mr. Vargas, he's barely alive. You have to relax. You can ride with him to the hospital, but-"  
"Damn you, I will not relax!" Roma roared, taking a menacing step forwards. Roma was a war veteran. He had faced so much and a cop didn't scare him. "I want to see him, now!"  
Antonio was so confused. The cop had said… Barely alive… Hospital… He was dazed. Could they mean…? Was he? Antonio found himself drifting towards the other ambulance that was parked near the shore. Inside laid a familiar figure wrapped in blankets. Dark brown hair was plastered to a pale forehead. A single curl stood up, refusing to lay flat despite its drenched state. Pure and utter relief flooded Antonio. Tears spilled down his cheeks again, but this time they were for the happiness that flooded him.  
Lovino was alive.  
Only a few moments later, Antonio was ushered back into the ambulance. The paramedics told him he needed to lie down that, that he needed to go to the hospital. He didn't fight it. The hospital meant one thing.  
Lovino.


	4. Von-Lichenstein

It was Sunday and it was pouring. Lovino lay on his bed, listening to the rain pound on his window. He could faintly hear church bells ringing in the distance. It was like a sad lament to the depression Lovino suddenly found himself in. Grandpa Roma was worried, but innocent Feliciano didn't seem to notice. He never did.  
Lovino couldn't help but still feel that nagging pain. It had already been two weeks. In those two weeks he managed to avoid the entirety of the Bad-Touch Trio as the week progressed. He now sat with Roderich, Mathew, and Arthur during lunch. There was this other kid, Yao Wang, who never really spoke. He always got flustered and said _aru._ Lovino didn't mind. He'd prefer to brood in silence anyways.  
Despite Lovino's demands, Feliciano still sat with and spoke to the group they had met the first day of class. Lovino was the only one that changed. Occasionally, he found himself staring at the odd mix of kids. Occasionally he thought he caught Antonio's wandering eye. This always led to a fit of coughing and a flustered reaction.  
Now that the second week of avoidance had come to an end, Lovino had to mentally prepare himself for the third week. But it was Sunday. He needed to relax. He needed to play guitar. The instrument felt so familiar under the Italian's loving hand. He plucked out a few chords, reveling in the acoustic sound. Why did he always find himself like this, alone in his bedroom with his guitar?  
Lovino paused for a moment, looking out at the rain-battered streets. He could easily find a dry spot in the gazebo at the park. Some place where he could think without Grandpa's worried gaze. Lovino grabbed his travel guitar case and placed the acoustic inside. He then threw on a pair of shoes and a hoodie. On his way out the door, Lovino snatched up an umbrella and set off into the drumming rain.  
The trip to the park was a fast one. No one was on the streets to get in his way. Not in this rain. Lovino hummed to himself as he walked. The gazebo was no in eyesight. He quickly jogged the last hundred or so feet and plopped down on the wooden floor. The smell of rain was fantastic around him. He slowly pulled out the acoustic, smiling softly to himself.  
Lovino played something he was familiar with: Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls. It had to be something that described him well. He sang the words softly. He stared slowly, his words quiet, but as the song progressed he found himself getting a bit more forceful. _"_ _And I don't want the world to see me cause I don't think that they'd understand. When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am."_  
"Why?" a soft girlish voice asked.  
Lovino suddenly looked up too see a blonde girl. She held a big black umbrella. Her feet were bare and her jeans were rolled up to her knees. The purple bow in her hair sagged slightly from the rain that had managed to hit it. The girl could be no older than ten or 11. She looked at Lovino with big green eyes.  
"Why?" she repeated again, her voice softly.  
"Why what?" he asked.  
"Why don't you want them to see you?" she asked.  
"It's just the lyrics to the song, kid."  
"No, it's not. They mean something more to you, don't they?" she asked, stepping a little closer. He could see her small body visibly shaking and he gestured for her to sit beside him.  
"Yeah, they do…" he mumbled, pulling his hoodie from his body. He draped it over the little girl's shoulders. "What's your name, kid?"  
"Lily," she said softly, pulling the hoodie tightly around herself. "Who are you?"  
"I'm Lovino," he said softly, setting down his guitar beside him. "What are you doing out in this rain? You're hardly dressed for it."  
"I like to play in it. Big brother didn't want to come, though," she stated. "What are you doing out here?"  
"Playing guitar."  
"No."  
"No?" he asked, suddenly confused.  
"I think you wanted to be alone," she said matter-of-factly.  
Lovino chuckled. This girl was certainly bright. "Yeah, you're right. I wanted to be alone… But sometimes it's not always the best."  
Lily smiled at his words. She tilted her head to the side, watching him curiously. "Why do you want to be alone?"  
"People… They don't really like me, so I stay away," he said softly, biting down on his lip.  
"You're wrong," she said simply, smiling to herself. "You don't let them. It's just like that song. You don't want them to see you because they wouldn't understand. Walls are broken, though and whomever you're hiding from will see who you are. I see it."  
Lovino was a little flustered at Lily's words. She couldn't have been more right. She couldn't have been more on target.  
"Yeah… You're right…" he said softly, smiling to himself. "But it's hard to actually listen to that sort of advice."  
"Why?"  
"You're too young to understand," Lovino said softly, shaking his head. He picked up his guitar again, his fingers caressing the strings.  
"I'm old enough to get some stuff," she said softly, letting a yawn escape her lips.  
"That's true… You're tired Lily," he said softly, patting her head. "You can take a nap if you want. I won't do anything."  
The little girl nodded and lay down, letting her head rest in Lovino's lap. She used his hoodie as a blanket. It was only a few minutes before she fell asleep. Not long after, Lovino started to play again. His fingers once again ran over the worn, metal strings. He played Iris again. He just let the tune carry out into the thunderous rain. Lovino got lost in his playing. He let his emotions fly loose into the strumming of the chords. The Italian didn't notice he was crying until the tears dripped down onto the polished wood surface of his instrument. He suddenly stopped, letting his chest heave. The sobs came involuntarily from Lovino's lips and he couldn't bring himself to stop them.  
He didn't exactly know why he was crying, but there was so much pent of pain inside of him that he couldn't help it. He had always been looked down upon. He had always been Little Lovi. He felt so young yet he was nearly an adult. He had always been thought of as irritating, antisocial, and mean. He just didn't know how to react towards people. But Lily was right. He didn't let people see who he was. He didn't let people in so they could understand him. Lily was different to say the least. She was a child. She had that innocence about her that let him open up. If only it were that easy for everyone.  
Lovino's fingers tightened around the neck of his guitar. His fingers curled into fists just above the strings. He let his head hand, hair in his eyes. Tears slid down his cheeks as he cried, dripping down onto the wood. He could no longer hear the rain past his own sobs. He just let his emotions loose.

Lily had woken long after the rain and Lovino's tears had stopped. She didn't know what had happened. She probably never would. The little girl was awake long enough to tell Lovino where she lived. She also offered a warning about her older brother. She fell back to sleep quickly after relaying her message.  
Lovino had felt obligated to bring her home. He lifted the small girl into his arms after loading his travel case onto his back. Both of the umbrellas hung from his wrist, swinging as he stepped down the white, wooden stairs of the gazebo. Lily's breathing was soft and delicate just as she appeared to be. He couldn't help but smile. She was what he wished her could be. The most innocent were always wise.  
Lovino wondered what it would have been like to have some sort of childhood. His mother had died when he was only four. From there on out, he had taken care of Feliciano. They had been through two orphanages before their Grandpa Roma could be reached in America. The struggles only go worse from there. They had a hard time proving their mother's citizenship and therefore their own. In each pained phone call between Lovino and Grandpa Roma, he was told to be strong for little Feliciano. He had to grow up for them both. That nightmare had lasted two years. Feliciano was only three when it began and by the time it was over, he hardly remembered it. He was just happy to have someone that would hug him and admire his drawings. Lovino, on the other hand, didn't know what to think of his new home in America. He still felt the need to protect his brother despite the fact that he was in high school.  
When looking down on Lily, sleeping in his arms, he couldn't help but feel the need to protect her until she was home safely. Her could feel her heart beating gently against his chest. In the distance he could see her little house, the Swiss flag beating in the wind. He walked the last block or so and rang the doorbell, looking at her gentle face once more.  
When the door opened, Lovino braced himself for the apprehensive looks he was about to receive. In front of him stood the infamous Vash Zwingli, Lily's older brother. He stood at least half a foot shorter than Lovino, but he was indeed older. Lovino had heard quite a few stories about him. He had been suspended for threaten many students with his fabled gun collection at home. When the police searched the house, they found that each gun was licensed to Vash. Scary.  
"What are you doing with Lily?" he asked, his voice tense.  
"She was out in the rain when I was playing guitar under the gazebo in the park," Lovino stated matter-of-factly. "She fell asleep and I gave her my hoodie."  
For a few tense moments, Vash stared Lovino down with intense green eyes that resembled Lily's. "Alright. Give her here."  
Lovino nodded slightly and handed the small girl off to Vash. He felt a little sad as he watched the girl go. She was one of the few people who actually understood Lovino.  
"Thank you," Vash stated, hugging his sister to his chest. "Uh. Do you want your hoodie?"  
"No. Let her keep it. If she sees me again, she can give it to me."  
With that, Lovino turned and walked away from the little house. He felt as though he had learned something from the wise, innocent girl named Lily. Now he had to put her preaching to good use. Lovino walked home silently, his single, unruly curl blowing in the wind. He didn't notice the Spaniard sitting on his doorstep in the twilight as he approached. Only when he was feet from the stoop did he see the messy curls and green eyes glowing in the sunset.  
Antonio.  
Lovino froze and looked away from Antonio. That same pain spread across his chest, but he didn't really know why he felt that pain. Antonio had only said a few careless things to Francis that nobody else was supposed to hear. Why did he care?  
"Lovino," came Antonio's pained utterance. Why was Antonio upset? Why did he care what Lovino though.  
"I thought I told you never to talk to me again," Lovino shot bitterly, refusing to meet Antonio's gaze.  
"Yes, but…"  
"Why are you here, Antonio?" Lovino's eyes were cold as he looked down the street. "Why do you have to come and piss me off even more?"  
"Lovino, you don't understand!"  
"I think I understand perfectly well. You wanted to use me for sex," Lovino seethed, his heart pounding.  
"No! That's not true-" Antonio stammered, climbing to his feet.  
"Isn't it? I heard you and Francis talking, dammit!"  
"Lovino! It's not like that! Please! Listen to me!" Antonio pleaded. Lovino couldn't turn to Antonio. He couldn't let his resolve weaken.  
"You wanted to screw me to see if it was worth it," Lovino whispered, shaking his head. "I'm not like you. I'm not gay. And don't change my brother to be. Leave us alone."  
Lovino finally allowed himself to look at Antonio. His usually bright eyes were glassy and dull. His skin was pale. His hand was clenched around a red object… A tomato. His resolve was weakening. He had to get the last words out.  
"I don't want to see you again. I'm not interested in your simple fling, Antonio. I'm not like that," Lovino said tonelessly. He pushed past Antonio, and into the house. He couldn't bear to see Antonio's reaction to his words. His resolves were too weak, nearly broken.  
Lovino fled to his room and collapsed on the bed. His frame was once again wracked with sobs. He didn't know what to do. Why did it hurt so much to turn Antonio away? He hated him. He hated him for trying to use him. But Lovino couldn't bear this pain either.  
Everything was make to be broken, but Antonio could not see who he was.


	5. Bastard, It's Not Love

Lovino felt heavy all over, body and mind. He was so groggy, but he had some sort of sense of where he was. He was warm despite the iciness he had felt the night previous. He could only guess he was dead. He had drowned and now he was in heaven. He was just waking up in the great beyond. That was the most logical explanation. He couldn't have survived that monstrous wave. No way in hell.  
Lovino was afraid to open his eyes to see what heaven was like. Lovino mustered up any courage he had, forcing his crusted eyes open. He saw a hospital room. With monitors and cords and everything. Okay. Maybe he wasn't dead, but how the hell did he survive?  
Lovino was afraid to open his eyes too see what heaven was like. He slowly mustered up any courage he had, forcing his crusted lids open. He saw a hospital room. Okay. Maybe he wasn't dead, but how the hell had he survived? He was pretty sure he remembered blacking out in the water. He heard voices though. Specifically a thick Spanish one.  
Lovino's eyes drifted closed again, his mind lost in confusion. He only knew one person with that odd, lilting Spanish accent. Antonio. Antonio had been calling Lovino from the shores. He was there, too. Why? How had he found out that Lovino was at the beach? Oh. Right. Lovino had heard Lily's call. She had always followed Lovino around. The little girl thought that she was amazing at sneaking around, but Lovino had become used to pretending that she wasn't there. He didn't want to ruin her game when she was clearly mesmerized by his playing. Some afternoons he had even gone out on purpose just for her. That time, however, he'd forgotten to check for his little friend. The sickening realization hit him. He had nearly killed himself in front of that little girl's eyes. Lovino couldn't have felt more ashamed or more grateful for that matter. Lily meat have called Antonio and the police. That girl... he owed her his life.  
The Italian smiled warmly, Antonio's shouts coming to mind again. Back in the water they had seemed like whispers. They were so quiet compared to the roars of the waves. He could hear them now, more distinct and easier to understand in Lovino's mind now that he was starting to fall asleep. The whispers helped a smile creep onto Lovino's lips, but it was short lived.  
There was a tug on his curl, and he found himself immediately sitting bolt upright. He looked around wildly, his eyes wide. No one. He leaned back against his pillows, and not before long, he heard a distinct giggle coming from his left. This time the Italian actually checked the floor beside him. To his utmost horror and surprise, that same Tomato Bastard was lying on his hands and knees beside Lovino's bed. He noticed he was only in his boxer shorts and a hospital gown. Lovino's cheeks flared crimson and he turned away.  
"What the fuck are you doing here, you bastard?" he asked, his voice scratchy and hoarse. His throat burned. It must have been from ask of the salt water he choked down.  
Antonio giggled as Lovino verbally berated him with his cursing and demanding questions. "We have the same hospital room."  
Oh. "Why the hell are you in the hospital?"  
Antonio's face fell slightly, but the expression was quickly wiped away with away with a smile. "I went in after you, of course."  
Lovino was a bit stunned. He hadn't really expect that. "Why? What do I matter to you?" Antonio only chuckled. He was making fun of Lovino. Great. "Why are you laughing, bastard?"  
"'Cause. You just don't get it, Lovino," Antonio mumbled, stifling a giggle.  
"What don't I get? What is there to understand?"  
Antonio slowly sat beside Lovino. He had a carefree smile playing on his olive lips. He seemed happy. "Tú eres mi corazón," he whispered with the softest of voices.  
Lovino stared at him confused. What had he said? He didn't understand it. A moment later, Antonio laughed.  
"Don't worry about it, Lovino. You will learn one day," he said kindly.  
The Italian shook his head, frustration ebbing into his mind. But it didn't matter what Antonio had said. There were more pressing matters that Lovino had in mind. Like what exactly had happened to him. Antonio had to have been able to read minds.  
"You want to know what went on out there, don't you?" he asked, his expression darkening. Lovino nodded slightly, his hands curling into fists. "Your friend came to my door, Lily. She was frantic and… Barefoot. She had said her friend was walking out into the ocean trying to kill himself. At the end of fall, I thought that was just crazy, but I followed her anyways. She was a fast little bugger, but I managed to keep up. When she couldn't see you from her height she panicked and called your name. I realized… It was you, and I couldn't just stand there.  
"I bolted for the water. It was cold. Really cold, but I didn't think about it. I was more concerned with getting you out. You couldn't really hear me, but I called for you… I really did. After that wave crashed on you, I thought you had died. I had given up hope so quickly… I just thought I'd find you body to bring it back. But people had stopped me. At first I thought Lily must have called the police, but I was wrong. My neighbor did. He was the chief of police in the city, Aldrich Beilschmidt, better known as Gil and Ludwig's grandfather. He over heard Lily when she explained everything to me. You grandfather said he is the one who called the police. Aldrich was at the beach with emergency crews in only a few minutes. They led me out of the water so they could search... God, I felt so empty. I felt like it was my fault. And seeing Feli balling and your grandfather barely managing to keep his composure… It made everything worse.  
"Their appearance also gave me hope. They had demanded to see you. And the paramedics said that you were barely alive. In the scarce moments between when they had led me from the water and finished looking me over, they had found you and brought you back… They revived you on the water. You were dead for at least ten minutes… But they managed to bring you back with no brain damage at all. They said you were determined…"  
Lovino couldn't help but stare at Antonio with wide, startled eyes. He had been dead. Antonio had come after him. He had scared his family so, so much. Oh God. What had he done? He'd caused so many people to worry, to risk themselves for him. Lovino felt so horrible.  
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry, Antonio," he whispered, looking down to his hands. He slowly pulled one knee to his chest, his eyes averted away from Antonio.  
"For what?" The Spaniard seemed puzzled. Why didn't he just understand?  
"For making you come after me. For being so stupid. For hurting my family…" Lovino whispered. "I'm so selfish, and I never think for anyone but myself. I'm so pathetic, and no one will ever love me."  
"I do," Antonio whispered under his breath. He looked at Lovino with caring eyes. God, had Antonio just said he… Loved him? Oh God.  
Lovino didn't know how to react. He reacted the only way he figured would work. "Why the fuck would you love someone like me, bastard?"  
Antonio laughed a little, his eyes looking down. "Because. I see everything behind your eyes, Lovino. I see the hurt and confusion that you don't want others to see. I see that you want to be strong, but you're just so tired. I can tell that you want to have fun, but you can't see to because after so long, you just have to take responsibility for your baby brother. You crave something that you don't have to watch over, something to watch over you."  
Those words, they were so true. They left Lovino in a stunned silence. He looked to his lap, one arm wrapped tightly around his raised leg. Antonio loved him. It was too good to be true. But it couldn't be true. Lovino was no good for Antonio. He was kind and selfless and brave and everyone loved him. Lovino was bitter and selfish. He had no friends. He was no good for the Spaniard. He couldn't let poor, delusional Antonio think he actually loved Lovino. No. There was no way. He'd up and leave Lovino just as he was beginning to get attached. He'd see Lovino as everyone else did; cruel and heartless. No. He couldn't suffer that sort of pain, the pain of rejection and loss. He had only one choice in this matter.  
"I don't feel the same way about you," Lovino said softly. "I won't ever feel the same way about you. I'm not gay, and I won't ever be. I like girls."  
Antonio smiled bitterly, his expression downcast. "Oh. I understand," he said softly with a slight nod.  
"It's best that you don't keep your feelings for me. Nothing good will come from them if I don't love or even like you back." The words were lies, but they were for his and Antonio's own good. But why did they hurt so much?  
"I-I understand. I'm sorry I said anything," Antonio said softly, turning away from Lovino.  
It took everything Lovino had to stop himself from reaching out to Antonio, to stop himself from confessing to his lies. He only laid back down against his pillows, his hands curled into fists. Antonio wouldn't understand why Lovino was really doing this. He couldn't ever know why.  
Antonio left Lovino's bedside and crossed the divider to get to his own half of the room. He had said nothing more to Lovino. He didn't even acknowledge when Grandpa Roma and Feliciano walked into the room, tears in their eyes.  
"I thought you were dead, Lovino! And I was so scared that I'd never see you again!" Feliciano cried, burying himself into Lovino's shoulder. He let him cry, patting his brother's back. How could he ever abandon his little brother?  
"I'm sorry, Feli…" Lovino whispered despite his burning throat. "I didn't think…" That was right. He didn't think.  
"No! I'm sorry I didn't pay attention to you! I didn't know you were depressed!" Feliciano explained, his voice frantic. "I love you Lovino! Don't ever try to kill yourself again!"  
"I love you, too, Feli…" Lovino whispered, his voice pained.  
Feliciano managed to pry himself loose from Lovino when Grandpa suggested he go find Lovino some dinner. Once they were alone aside from Antonio's presence on the other half of the room, Roma pulled Lovino into a bruising hug.  
"I'm sorry, Lovino…" he whispered, holding his grandson tightly in his arms. "I didn't know you were depressed. I didn't understand. I just… I don't know what I'd do if lost you, too… I've already lost your mother and grandmother. I can't lose one of my grandsons…"  
A stabbing pain wedged itself into Lovino's heart. He had never seen Grandpa so vulnerable. He had never seen Grandpa so broken. It made him feel so horrible.  
"It's my fault… I never let you in," Lovino whispered.  
"No. It's my job to notice these things. I'm your Grandfather. I should know this and I didn't. It's not your fault, Lovino…"  
Lovino couldn't stand to see his Grandpa like this. He was supposed to be the anchor of the family, not the one that was apologizing. Lovino hugged his grandfather back tightly, tears welling in his eyes.  
Today, Lovino had hurt so many people. He hurt Feliciano by nearly making him lose the only person he could truly trust and rely on. He had hurt Grandpa Roma by nearly adding himself to the list of those he had lost to death. He had hurt Antonio by denying that he loved him. He hurt himself by denying himself the only person he had ever felt anything more than friendship towards. Oh God, what was he doing to himself? The lies were just building up, and they'd only consume Lovino until he was nothing more than a shell of a being.


	6. Cards, Bloody Fingers, and a Kiss

((To get this started, I in no way shape or form have an legal rights over Cards Against Humanity. I didn't pick the specific cards I did to offend anyone. I used them merely because I thought they fit some of the characters. I am not making fun of any religions. Don't get mad at me, please! Thank you! Let's get this show on the road!))

Christmas. It was that one holiday that Lovino had always enjoyed. There was always something nice about having a Christmas eve party and inviting friends over. Lovino couldn't help but feel glad that the holiday had come around… It would temporarily distract his family from his current state of being.  
After the incident two weeks ago, Grandpa and Feliciano hadn't given Lovino a moment's rest. They were constantly asking if he was okay and if he wanted anything. It was a little overbearing, yes, but at least they cared about him. He knew that now, and he'd never do anything to try and hurt them ever again. If he had to force a smile to make sure they didn't worry, he would. He found himself so often doing so.  
Lovino smiled bitterly, pulling himself from the living room couch. The doorbell had rang, and Lovino was expecting a few people. He had invited Mathew, Roderich, and Arthur over. Grandpa told him to bring anyone he wanted. They didn't have any close family. It would be best to have friends over in turn. Lovino threw open the front door, preparing himself to greet his three friends, but he cut short. Standing in front of him was the last person he ever wanted to see. Antonio. The Spaniard gave a carefree smile. Lovino did the only thing he could. He slammed the door in Antonio's face and pressed his back against it. Fuck. Who the hell had invited the Tomato Bastard? As if on cue, Grandpa sauntered into the living room. He spotted the flustered Lovino, back pressed against the door.  
"I take it that's Antonio," Grandpa said with a laugh.  
"Why is he here?" Lovino hissed in a quiet whisper.  
"I invited him. Lovino, You can't keep shunning him. He did try to help you," Roma muttered grimly.  
If only Grandpa knew. Antonio loved him, and Lovino couldn't bear to see that in his eyes. "I know, but Grandpa-"  
Lovino was quickly cut short. "No buts. Now open the door."  
"But-"  
"Lovino."  
The Italian's cheeks burned red. He had been chastised like a child. Lovino reluctantly opened the front door of the house, allowing the Spaniard to step through the threshold. He slowly shut the door behind him, watching Roma embrace Antonio with that happy smile he always seemed to wear despite all odds. Lovino slipped away, slumping back onto the couch. He listened to Grandpa and Antonio's light conversation about the food and gifts Antonio had brought. Lovino waited in silence, completely forgotten and ignored.  
Once the bell rang again, Lovino opened it. To his utter exasperation and disgust, there stood Francis, Gilbert, Alfred, and Ludwig. The bad touch trio was going to be back in his house along with Feliciano's boyfriend. Yes. Feli and Ludwig had gotten together when Lovino was in the hospital. What had happened between the two, Lovino didn't want to know…  
The group entered the house, greeting Feliciano and Grandpa with laughter and smiles. Lovino watched the ordeal, managing to spot a familiar game under the Frenchman's arm. Cards… Cards Against Humanity. For the love of God, of course Francis would bring that game. Lovino sighed slightly, plopping himself down onto the couch. A few minutes later, the entire group followed, including Antonio, managing to squeeze everyone around the coffee table.  
"I'll read first," Francis declared, removing the lid from the box.  
As the cards were being dealt, the bell rang. Lovino used it as a means for escape. He practically ran to the door, relieved to see Mathew, Roderich, and Arthur behind it when he opened it. He led them inside, hoping to slip past the group of card players, but of course it'd never work. Francis had too keen of an eye.  
"Mon canadien!" Francis yelled, leaping to his feet. Lovino took one glance back at Mathew to find him bewildered.  
"You didn't tell me he was going to be here, Lovino…" Mathew whined in a low whisper.  
"I didn't know they were going to be here…" Lovino mumbled, gritting his teeth. He didn't like the perverted Frenchman, and he felt bad that he was practically glued to Mathew.  
"Please, join us in our game. And I'm sure Alfred would love to have Arthur with us for a round as well has Gil and Roderich," Francis pleaded.  
Lovino had hardly noticed that Alfred was now clinging desperately to Arthur's arm. The Brit, however, seemed pissed. "Get off of me, you bloke! Blimey, I'll play one round of your bloody game!"  
Mathew was exasperated. Arthur was pissed. Roderich just looked pale. Gilbert was giving him a devious look… That could have explained it. Lovino gave a slight sigh and led his friends to the table. Cards were dealt to each of them.  
"Okay…" Francis mumbled, picking up a card. "What do they have more of in Heaven?"  
Lovino looked over his cards and picked a simple one. _A murder most foul._ There were plenty of those… He placed the card on the table face down in front of Francis and waited while the rest of them decided.  
"Italians, free samples, poorly-timed Holocaust jokes…" Francis read, pausing after he read the third one. "Gilbert…"  
Lovino glanced to Roderich who was fuming. Right, Roderich was Jewish.  
Francis shot Gilbert one more pointed look before continuing. "Tentacle porn, the milk man, German dungeon porn…" the Frenchman immediately burst out laughing. "Jesus, Ludwig!"  
The German looked confused. "I swear that one was me."  
Feliciano could only giggle while he looked at Ludwig. Lovino couldn't help but be the slightest bit disgusted. What was his little, innocent brother tuning in to? Just then, the doorbell rang again. Lovino was about to get up when Grandpa Roma stopped him.  
"You play your game. It should only be Aldrich Beilschmidt," he called, heading for the door.  
"You invited our grandpa?" Gilbert practically whined. He was the bad child, Lovino knew, and having his grandfather around would only cause problems.  
Francis started to read again as soon as the door opened. "A bigger, blacker-"  
"Okay! I think it's quite enough of that game!" Roma called, shooting the group a look. Beside him stood someone small.  
Lily.  
Lovino got to his feet, slowly crossing to her. She immediately threw her arms around him. Lovino was a bit taken aback at her sudden embrace. He never did get used to hugs. He wrapped his arms around her in turn, offering a small smile.  
"I'm sorry…" he said softly, looking down at her. "I made you worry…"  
The girl shook her head. "It's okay. Just don't do it again…"  
Lovino nodded, taking a step back from her. "Thank you."  
"For what?" she asked, her expression quizzical.  
"For caring about me," he whispered. Lovino took Lily's hand and led her back to the group. He only hoped the group of teenage boys could be mature for her sake. At first, she was a bit shy with them, but eventually she was laughing and giggling at some of their stories. She really did bring a burst of sunshine to the group. She distracted even Lovino from the fact that Antonio was so close… It distracted him from the pain in his heart.  
Lovino slipped into the kitchen around two to start cooking dinner. He enjoyed cooking. It was one of those things that Lovino could get himself lost in just like playing the guitar. He grabbed pot from the rack and started chopping a few tomatoes. He wanted at least two or three fresh one in the sauce for the pasta. It always made things taste better. Lost in his own word, Lovino didn't hear the door to the kitchen opening. He didn't notice until it was too late.  
"Lovino…" Antonio whispered only inches from his ear.  
The Italian cried out in surprise, jumping slightly. A sting ran through his finger and it too him only a moment to realize he had cut it. He stammered something in Italian, dropping the blade. He was so flustered. Why did being around this crazy Spaniard do this to him? With his bleeding hand, Lovino reached for a towel. He didn't get far before Antonio snatched up his hand, slipping the bloodied fingertip into his mouth. Lovino was far too stunned to move, to think. He watched Antonio with wide, golden-brown eyes. The Spaniard seemed to be enjoying Lovino's embarrassed expressions.  
Antonio slipped Lovino's finger from his mouth and giggled. It was more than obvious that he wanted to flirt… God, Lovino couldn't be caught in this situation. Antonio was holding his hand. He had just lapped up the blood from his finger. Lovino's head was spinning. He couldn't help but notice the warm sensation that was spiraling downward. Oh God, not here, not now, not in front of Antonio. When the Spaniard started to press closer, Lovino only hoped that he couldn't feel the lump forming beneath the fabric of his jeans. He could feel Antonio's breath on his skin. He was so close. Their chests were now touching. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Lovino couldn't move. He was pinned against the countertop with nowhere to go but closer to Antonio. He was so petrified and aroused by Antonio's sudden change in atmosphere.  
Lovino couldn't help but want more.  
"Siempre te querré," Antonio said softly in Spanish.*  
Lovino couldn't understand what the words meant, but he felt as though they weren't meant for anyone else to hear. Those secret words that were whispered into his ear… They were meant for Lovino and Lovino only. The Italian's face flushed a bright red and he looked away from Antonio, but the Spaniard was quick to counteract. With the hand that was not holding tightly on Lovino's, he took hold of the Italian's jaw, turning him to face him. Lovino looked into those sparkling green eyes. They were so full of mischief, and Lovino didn't know what to do. He stared at Antonio, his cheeks bright and full of embarrassed color.  
Antonio hesitantly drew in closer, pressing his soft lips to Lovino's.  
Oh God, it was everything Lovino could have wanted. It was sweet, tender, and passionate, that kiss with Antonio. That moment seemed to last decades when in reality it was just a few short seconds. Too short. When Antonio pulled away, Lovino found himself craving more. But he couldn't… No he couldn't accept this from someone like Antonio, someone so popular and strong. Someone who could be easily snatched away. Lovino was too selfish for Antonio. He couldn't hurt the fool by letting him get caught up in something like this. Lovino turned away, focusing his eyes on the ground. He couldn't bring himself to look into those perfect green eyes. He couldn't let his own foolishness get in the way.  
"Lovino… I…" Antonio whispered, his voice obviously pained. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to…"  
Lovino immediately looked up. Antonio couldn't blame himself for this, not when it wasn't his fault. "Don't apologize… I want to, I just can't-"  
"You can't what?"  
Crap. Had he really admitted to… liking Antonio? "I can't let myself… It's not right. It's-"  
Antonio immediately pulled Lovino in by the waist, their hands still clasped. Antonio pressed his lips to Lovino's. This kiss was stronger, deeper, longer. It was meant to show Lovino that Antonio didn't care. Lovino knew that, too… He couldn't fight his urges anymore. He pressed in closer, kissing Antonio with a hungry force. God, things were escalating so quickly and Lovino didn't know what was happening. He was zoning out. He ignored everything: his bleeding finger, the guests in the living room, the lumps in his throat and below his waist. All that was there was Antonio, sweet, beautiful, crazy Antonio.  
The Spaniard pulled away slightly, another giggle escaping his perfect lips. Just as he was about to say something, the door to the kitchen burst open and in walked Francis. Lovino scrambled to get away from Antonio, the embarrassment livid on his face. The Frenchman looked at the two of them briefly before a knowing smile crept onto his lips.  
"Toni, he's jailbait and you know it!" Francis said sarcastically.  
Antonio snorted. "Shut it. I'm pretty damn sure we both already know you've been harassing more Mathew for weeks."  
"Say one more word, I dare you, Toni!" Francis warned.  
"Antonio…" Lovino whispered. He feared to see the repercussions on this.  
"Hell, Mathew and Lovino are the same age. If you bring me down, I'll take you right down with me," Antonio said deviously.  
Francis chuckled, yelling one word. Well, actually a name. "Gilbert!"  
In a moments notice, the Prussian burst into the kitchen? "What? Did you find anything to make rum balls?"  
Lovino looked so confused, but he knew one thing. He was in the same room as the entirety of the Bad Touch Trio. Things would only go south from there. He had to get out. Now. Lovino slowly crept towards the living room, but his attempt was futile.  
"Not so fast, Lovi," Francis chided, grabbing hold of Lovino's bleeding hand. He winced, looking back at the Frenchman. "I'll be having a party at my house for New Year's Eve. You will be in attendance, mon ami."  
Lovino stared at him wide-eyed. He didn't want to know what Francis had intended by inviting him. Hell, on New Year's Eve, he wanted to be as far away from the Bad Touch Trio as possible.  
"Gilbert, you'll be helping me set up?" Francis asked.  
Antonio quickly intervened, snatching Lovino's hand from the Frenchman's. "No, we won't be going to that! We all know what happens at your parties!" Antonio said the words in a joking way, but when his intense green eyes met Lovino's, he knew that the Spaniard was deadly serious.  
"I think you will. Gilbert, you think you can get Ludwig and Feli with us, too?" Francis looked to the Prussian with a hopeful expression. "Oh and the lovely Mathieu?"  
"That's the easy part," he replied. "But we need Roddy, Alfred, and Arthur, too. I swear though, if you invite Braginski like you did last year, Francis!"  
The two of them left, chatting inanely about the party that would unfold.  
Antonio turned to Lovino. "I'm sorry about them," he said softly, taking a towel and wrapping Lovino's hand in it.  
"It's okay… I've been figuring out how to deal with them," Lovino responded, his cheeks once again red.  
"Can I say that we are together, Lovino?" Antonio suddenly asked, his voice no higher than a whisper.  
Lovino nodded. "Yeah… I'd like that…" he responded, smiling just a little bit. Lovino turned to go back to the food he had been preparing before, but Antonio stopped him.  
"Lovino, at the party. Promise me something," the Spaniard stated.  
"What?"  
"Don't get too far from me. Francis wants payback, and he's damn good at getting it. Just be careful."  
The words weighed heavily on Lovino. Payback, and Lovino knew he'd just have to be included…

{ *Siempre te querré = I will always love you. ((Pardon me if I butchered the conjugations)) }


	7. Lost Tomatoes in the Closet

It was early when Lovino got dragged out of bed on New Year's Eve morning. He was disoriented and confused, groggy and cold. Who had gotten him out of bed? The warm hand around his wrist couldn't have belonged to Feliciano. He knew better than to wake Lovino up before… He glanced at the clock. It was only 6 a.m. Why the hell had someone woken him up? Lovino blearily rubbed his eyes, taking a look through the darkness. He saw a familiar mop of dark curl…  
Oh, hell… It was Antonio that was dragging him towards his closet.  
Lovino let out a shriek of surprise, reaching back to grab his blanket. He snatched it up and wrapped it around himself before berating the Spaniard with a slew of curses.  
"The fuck are you doing waking me up before nine, you damn bastard?"  
Antonio only giggled. He had already become used to Lovino's cursing. "We're spending the day together, and I thought it would be best to get a head start!"  
"Bastard, I've told you not to come in my room when I'm sleeping!"  
Antonio put on a false pout. "But Lovi, you look so cute sleeping in your underwear!"  
Lovino's cheeks flushed a deep red as he pulled the blanket tighter around himself. This wasn't the first time he woke up to find the Spaniard gazing at his sleeping form. Lovino really needed to learn how to lock his bedroom door… And he had to get the spare key away from Feliciano.  
Antonio ushered a now fully awake Lovino into the bathroom. The tile floor was like ice under his feet. He already missed the warmth of his bed. Lovino wrapped his blanket a little tighter around himself, a large yawn escaping his lips. Antonio took the liberty of starting the shower for him while he stood there, an image of sleepiness surrounding him. Lovino hardly gave thought to the matter. Antonio was strange, Lovino had come to realize, and there was no use getting flustered over these things while they were alone. Around anyone else, on the other hand, he'd been burning with embarrassment.  
Lovino didn't notice the showerhead running. He was too entranced by his thoughts, by the crazy, beautiful Spaniard that was undressing in front of him.  
Oh, God! Antonio was undressing in front of him. The panic immediately set it. What could Antonio possibly want?  
"Lovino, hurry up and get undressed. If you keep making that face though, I'll have to do it for you," he said with a wink.  
Lovino sucked in a breath, the beat of his heart quickening. He didn't have any words to berate Antonio with. He was too stunned. And Antonio was looking right at him with a mischievous grin. He was already nude in front of Lovino. Oh, God, he could feel the warmth spiraling downward just below his waist. He was sure Antonio could see it, too for he had stepped closer, pressing his hips against Lovino's.  
"I said I would, and I will..." Antonio whispered, his breath hot on Lovino's ear. The Spaniard's thumbs slipped under the waistband of Lovino's boxers, tugging them downward with a gentle force. The Italian yelped in surprise, his cheeks flushing a deep crimson. The Spaniard pressed closer, his lips finding Lovino's immediately. Lovino himself felt woozy. So many of his emotions were crazing over him. He didn't know whether or not he should feel embarrassed or aroused. Antonio broke the kiss and spoke, his voice no higher than a whisper. "Be quiet, Lovi. We don't want to wake Feliciano or your Grandpa."  
Lovino could only nod at the words. He was right. If Grandpa caught them now, they'd both be grounded. Grandpa wasn't afraid to ground Antonio. He would in a moment's chance if necessary.  
Lovino felt the fabric of his boxers shifting downward again, and it took his all not to shout in surprise and protest. His arms had somehow found themselves around Antonio's neck. Their waists were so close together with only a thin layer of cotton fabric to protect them. Lovino wasn't sure how to react, but he felt sort of… right in Antonio's arms like this. Their breaths mingled together in an intense, heated moment when Lovino and Antonio drew together for another kiss. After that, everything got fuzzy. Lovino didn't notice when his boxers had disappeared or when the two of them had gotten into the shower. It only occurred to them when Antonio stood behind Lovino. His arms were wrapped around the Italian's waist, his hand resting just above his waist. His chin lay on the smaller boy's shoulder.  
Antonio's soft breaths could be heard right beside Lovino's ear. His own hands fell on top of the Spaniards. Right there, soaked under the showerhead, the two of them looked like they belonged. Antonio wore his carefree smile and Lovino burned with embarrassment. They may have been stark opposites, but nothing felt more right in Lovino's mind.

Antonio managed to drag Lovino out of the house by eight. The wind was better and he hardly wanted to be out of bed. At this point, however, it was too late. Antonio wanted to begin his holiday festivities early, and what the Spaniard wanted, he always seemed to get. There were always plenty of protests from the opposite side, but he never listened. After a few days, Lovino had already realized that there was no point in arguing with the damned Tomato Bastard.  
The weather was bitter. It had already turned Lovino's nose and cheeks a bright pink. His breaths came out in frosted puffs. His ears were cold, too. The beanie he was wearing hardly covered them. He really hadn't prepared for this kind of weather. He honestly hoped that they'd be inside; shopping and eating something warm for the majority of the day. When Antonio told Lovino at the last minute that they'd be walking around the downtown area, he immediately dreaded it. It was going to be a long, cold day. And Antonio would enjoy it. He'd enjoy clinging to Lovino to warm him up. The Italian could already feel the embarrassment.  
"Are you ever going to tell me exactly where you're taking me?" Lovino asked, hoping he wasn't sounding as whiny as he thought.  
"Yeah, I can see it now. I promise Lovi, you'll love it!" the Spaniard exclaimed, clapping his mitten covered hands together.  
"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me Lovi," he muttered, shoving his fists into the pockets of his thin jacket. Antonio didn't listen to a word Lovino had said. He merely grabbed his arm, dragging him down the street towards what looked to be a little café.  
"This is the place," Antonio said with a bit of finality.  
Lovino's heart leapt. Food. He hadn't eaten a thing since the night before. Antonio had pulled him out of the house before he could even get a travel mug filled with coffee. Lovino touched his back pocket, looking for his wallet. It wasn't there. He could have sworn he put it in his back pocket!  
"Antonio, I think I lost my wallet somewhere," Lovino said, his face full of worry.  
At least it was.  
In the mittened hand of the Spaniard there lay Lovino's wallet. That bastard. He must have slipped it out of Lovino's back pocket when he wasn't looking. He was about to start cursing at Antonio for scaring him, but a spare mittened hand came flying down over his lips.  
"No! No yelling, Lovi," Antonio chided, a grin on his lips. "I won't let you pay a dime today. And to make sure of that, I'll be keeping this with me."  
Lovino gave an exasperated sigh behind the glove that covered his mouth. He could already feel the guilt forming in his chest. He hated when anyone purchased him anything that wasn't for his birthday or Christmas. He always felt bad, especially when the Spaniard decided he wanted to show up with a random gift. In the last few days, that had been frequent.  
"Are we clear?" Antonio asked, his hand still firmly clamped down over Lovino's mouth. He waited until Lovino nodded reluctantly to move it.  
"You really are a bastard, you know that?" Lovino asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he opened the door of the café.  
"I know." Antonio quickly ruffled Lovino's hair and stepped inside.  
The scents of the café were like heaven. Smells of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air along with sugary pastries. Antonio walked up to the counter and flashed a smile at the girl at the register.  
"Lovi, what do you want?" he asked, looking at the menu with a thoughtful glance.  
Lovino looked up. The entire menu was in another language that he assumed to be French. "I can't read it…" he mumbled, exasperated.  
"Right. There's coffee and all kinds of pastries," Antonio said, scratching the back of his head.  
Lovino nodded; he figured Antonio had learned French from Francis. He looked up at the menu briefly, the words completely foreign to him still. He shook his head slightly. He could use something fruity and creamy. "Uhm, get me something with raspberries and cream. And… a caramel iced coffee?"  
"Je voudrais le tarte à la crème de framboise, le caramel café glacé, la fraise crêpes, et le café" he ordered, his French spoken with that lilting Spanish accent.*  
Antonio's words made a warmth bubble inside of Lovino. He felt pride in Antonio even if few people actually understood their relationship. Sometimes, Lovino wondered how he came to understand it. There were no long, thought out decisions in this. He guessed it just came naturally to him. Feeling this love for Antonio was something that just felt right. And seeing him now, with every aspect of him glowing, Lovino couldn't have felt more proud. He smiled softly to himself, his golden-brown eyes bright and happy.  
The order came in, and Antonio carried it to a little booth. The two males sat down across from each other and took their meals. Everything looked delicious. Lovino took a bite of the raspberry pastry, chewing it slowly. The cream practically melted in his mouth. A smile spread on his pink lips, and he glanced up at Antonio. Those same green eyes were following him once again. They were always watching, always observing. Lovino looked down, a bashful blush spreading along his cheeks. He took his coffee into his hand, taking a sip. The liquid was bitter. The sugary pastry had completely drowned the flavor of the coffee. Lovino's nose scrunched up slightly and Antonio's thumb was immediately touching Lovino's face, rubbing his wrinkled, blushed cheek. The Italian looked up at him, his eyes embarrassed. People would see them if Antonio wasn't careful. People would see them… At this point, Lovino couldn't care one bit. Lovino set down his coffee and leaned in closer to Antonio. The Spaniard came closer, too. Their lips brushed lightly as they met in the middle of the table.  
Lovino's cheeks flared crimson, but he ignored it. He closed his eyes and inched a little closer. He felt Antonio do the same. Their fingers found each other on the wooden table, linking together. Anyone watching would have thought they were cute, they were wrong for kissing in public, they were exercising their free will. Lovino and Antonio thought nothing of that. All that was there was this moment, now.

The sun was setting. The daylight was coming to an end. Lovino and Antonio had spent a long, eventful day together. They had walked around the city, fingers linked. When Lovino was cold, Antonio was quick to find a bench for them to sit down on. He wrapped his arms around Lovino to keep him warm. And when Antonio wanted to try something crazy – something like ice-skating – Lovino agreed without argument. They had spent their day well, but now came the part that Lovino had been dreading.  
Antonio pulled up to a large house, parking across the street. They had pulled up to what Antonio had referred to as 'Casa Bonnefoy'. Francis was having his New Year's party, and they couldn't miss it. Lovino would have preferred to stay home after Francis' threatening words in the kitchen a few days prior, but he couldn't. He would have felt horrible for leaving Antonio alone.  
The couple knocked on the front door of the house and was invited in by none other than Gilbert. He and Antonio hugged real quick, laughing. Lovino stood awkwardly behind him. He didn't know half of Antonio's friends all that well. He only hoped to see Mathew or Arthur or Roderich. There had to be some sanity in this night. He took a look around, noticing the well-out-of-place Roderich sitting alone on the couch. Antonio had disappeared somewhere, most likely dragged away by Gilbert. Lovino took the liberty of crossing the room and plopping down by the musician.  
"Hey," Lovino said softly, his tone entirely exhausted.  
"Oh, thank God," Roderich mumbled, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses. "I told Gilbert I wasn't good with parties like these… There are more people here than there were at the Christmas party, Lovino… I don't understand how they can simply do these sorts of things."  
Lovino shrugged. Roderich was the type of person that liked sophisticated conversations and classical music. He didn't fit in well with the pounding music and tight clothes that most people were accustomed to.  
"I'm still getting used to it. Antonio is going to drag me to enough of these things…" Lovino replied, offering a smallish smile.  
"I don't think I ever will despite the man I see on a daily basis."  
Lovino snorted. Gilbert was something else, and he didn't understand how Roderich had gotten so close to him. "You will eventually."  
"I hope so…"  
The Italian smiled slightly, spotting a bowl of cake balls on the table. He looked at them skeptically, picking one up. He didn't want to eat anything that was just lying in a bowl on a table. He didn't know what was safe. "Can I trust these things?"  
"I think Arthur brought them. They should be okay," Roderich said dismissively.  
Lovino popped the cake ball into his mouth. It was good, and it had a yummy flavor that Lovino couldn't quick place. He took another and ate it quickly. He enjoyed these little things. He'd probably top off the entire bowl if he could. He was about to reach for a third until he spotted Francis. He cursed slightly under his breath as he watched the blonde cross over to him.  
"Lovino, mon amis, I have found you!" he said happily, taking Lovino's wrist. "Come with me. I have need of you."  
The Italian was dragged to his feet before he had a chance to respond. He immediately felt dizzy, but he couldn't manage to get the words out before Francis tugged him through the house. He was led to a dark hallway. He couldn't help but feel uneasy. A crazy Frenchman was leading him to a dark place. Nothing good could possibly come from that. And Lovino was right. As soon as they were far enough away Lovino felt a piece of fabric come down over his eyes. It was tied behind his head and he was lifted from his feet. Lovino shrieked in surprise, but he doubted anyone could hear him over the pounding base that came from the speakers that were placed all around the house.  
Lovino rapped on the back of the person that was carrying him, cursing profanely in Italian. He didn't know what the fuck was going on, and he wanted to be put down. Despite Lovino's protests, he was still carried off through the house. He didn't know where he was. He knew he was taken down a flight of stair, but he couldn't tell where else he was going. It was getting quieter. The walls of the house blocked off the base a little, enough for Lovino to hear himself and his shouts.  
After a few more moments, a door was opened and Lovino was set down on the ground. He sat there for a moment before reaching for the blindfold. Bad move. His wrists were grabbed quickly and tied behind him. Lovino cursed loudly again, the fear and anger rising in his chest. God, he could have killed Francis for this one. He knew the Frenchman was behind all of this. Just as Lovino was going to go off in another slew of curses, he felt a piece of fabric get shoved between his lips. His yells were now muffled. Oh God, was he going to murder Francis.  
Lovino quickly scrambled to his feet, but stumbled. He felt drunk and dizzy. He didn't understand why. He sat back down, his head swimming. There was nothing he could door. A door was shut and a lock clicked into place. He couldn't help but notice how terribly alone he was. There was no one else with him, and from the thumping that came from upstairs, Lovino could almost guarantee that he was locked in a basement closet. This had to be the payback Antonio had told him about on Christmas Eve. But he didn't even have a chance to keep close to the Spaniard. He had been swept away the moment they walked in the door. All Lovino could do was wait. The cold from the basement was already seeping into his body. He was a little afraid, but not by much. He knew Antonio would come and save him.

Antonio had gotten caught up in yet another one of Gilbert's senseless ideas. This one had been to go outside into the snow and see who could sit in the snow the longest in their boxers. At first Antonio was reluctant, but with enough whining from Gilbert and cheers from their friends, he complied. It wasn't like he had much of a choice. Antonio had left Lovino behind. He didn't want to leave his precious Italian alone in Francis' house for more than a few minutes, but he had seen Roderich. He had sense to him... He'd protect Lovino. At least Antonio hope he would.  
The Spaniard now sat outside, the cold already getting to him. He knee Gilbert would win, but he couldn't give him the satisfaction of triumph so easily. The Prussian may have been accustomed to the extreme cold, but Antonio was stubborn. He had endured worse cold. He waited out the pale skinned boy until he shivered uncontrollably. Gilbert usually prided himself in winning things, but this time, as soon as Francis stepped out of the house, he gave in.  
"Done. I'm cold and done," he shouted, stalking back into the house.  
The people around Antonio cheered and handed him his clothes and a big blanket. He took it gratefully wrapped it around himself tightly. He dressed beneath it and walked back into the house. Gilbert and Francis were talking while Gilbert got dressed. Antonio paid them no mind. He went off to find Lovi whom he had left with Roderich. As Antonio got close to the musician, his eyebrows shot up. Lovino was not sitting beside him. Toni approached him, a little tense.  
"Roderich! Have you seen Lovino?" he asked over the pounding base music.  
Roderich looked up and nodded after a moment. "Yes. He was here a while ago, but Francis came as grabbed him about ten minutes ago. He never came back so I assumed he had found you."  
Antonio's stomach dropped. Where was Lovino? Why had he not come back to Roderich? Had he found Mathew in another room? Antonio pursed his lips, furrowing his brow.  
"Thanks Roderich. Come find me if you see him, okay?"  
Antonio didn't wait for a reply. He slipped into the crowd of people that inhabited the party. As far as Antonio could tell, Lovino wasn't in the sea of people. He pushed through the crowd, towards Francis' kitchen. If Mathew was hiding anywhere, it'd be there. He barreled through the doors, taking a look around. The room was lined with all sorts of alcohol, and a very familiar, drunken blonde sat there gorging himself. Arthur.  
"Tonio!" he yelled with a laugh.  
"Uh, hey, Arthur. Have you seen Lovino? I can't seem to find him..." Antonio mumbled.  
Arthur shrugged nonchalantly. "No, but I heard the frog mention him to bird boy."  
Frog. Bird boy. Francis and Gilbert. They had to have seen Lovino recently, hell at this point he was almost sure they had caused his disappearance. The fact dawned on him then and there. Francis was getting his revenge for what Antonio had said to him on Christmas Eve. Taking Lovino, however, was going to far... The Spaniard stalked from the kitchen, leaving the very drunk Arthur alone. There was no point in asking anyone else. He knew where to find his answers. He heard the peals of laughter before he saw whom they belonged to. There in a circle stood Francis, Gilbert, and Ludwig. Antonio wouldn't have been surprised if Gilbert had blackmailed his younger brother into helping them. Gilbert was able to dig up any dirt. Hell, he could have simply said he'd trick Feliciano into dancing naked or something. Antonio stepped closer to the circle, his eyes narrowed.  
"Where is he?" Antonio demanded, his voice harsh and loud.  
"Who are you talking about, mon chou?" Francis asked, his voice slightly confused. Antonio knew he was acting.**  
"You know exactly who I am talking about, dammit!" Antonio yelled, his fingers curling into tight fists. "Where the hell is Lovino?"  
"Oh! I haven't seen him since before you came in," Gilbert said with a shrug. Gilbert was telling the truth. He had been with Antonio the entire time.  
"Francis, Gilbert. Where is he? Feliciano, close your ears," Antonio said, glaring at the group.  
Feliciano innocently looked around and put his hands over his ears. He turned away so he wasn't looking around do them, and he swayed to the music. Feliciano was so innocent.  
"Spill it, now, Francis. I'm not afraid to kick your ass. You too, Gilbert," he growled.  
"I got my revenge..." Francis said slowly, giving Antonio a grin.  
"By kidnapping Lovino?" he roared, stepping closer.  
"He's fine, Toni..." Francis mumbled, running a hand through his blonde locks.  
"Then where is he?" Antonio could feel the panic rising in his chest. That nagging anxiety was increasing. He wrapped his arms around himself shifting from foot to foot.  
"Don't be a pansy, Carriedo! Go find him. It'd be way more fun to watch you search, anyways," Gilbert whined, throwing back his white haired head.  
"Damnit, you bastards! You don't get it! I suffered enough thinking he was dead. Just tell me where he is!"  
Antonio was seething, and his voice was getting louder. People around them were starting to stare. He knew Francis and Gilbert would be too stubborn to tell him anything. He flipped them both off and stalked towards the basement. He had one idea on where Lovino would be. There was a closet they used to play in as kids in Francis' basement. They often locked each other inside. When they hit high school, Francis played 'Seven Minutes in Heaven' with just about anyone that was willing. He could almost guarantee they had locked Lovino inside. As Antonio stalked down the stairs, he heard footsteps behind him. He could almost guarantee that Gilbert and Francis had followed him. They had to give him the key to the closet anyways. He was positive it was locked.  
Antonio hit the basement floor and stalked across the room towards the closet. He stood in front of the door, his hip popped and his arms crossed over his chest.  
"Unlock it. Now," he demanded, his green eyes like daggers.  
Francis scrambled to the door, turning the key in the lock. He swung open the door and flipped on the light that was inside. Antonio saw him there, bound and gagged. Lovino… Antonio was at his sit in an instant, pulling the blindfold from his eyes. He then tugged the fabric from his lips and tossed it to the side. Lovino looked completely out of it. He looked almost drunk. Antonio slapped his cheeks lightly and he stirred, mumbling something in broken, garbled Italian. He was definitely drunk.  
"Did you give him alcohol, Francis?" Antonio asked incredulously.  
"No. Never. He was eating Arthur's rum balls like they were candy. He's probably more drunk than he's ever been off of his shit Italian wine," Francis said immediately. Antonio could tell he wasn't lying.  
The Spaniard untied Lovino's hands and lifted him into his arms. "I'm going home Francis."  
"Don't leave, Toni! It's not even midnight!" Gilbert whined, throwing his arms into the air.  
"You should have thought about that before tied up my boyfriend!" Antonio roared, hoping he wasn't murdering Lovino's poor ears. "Don't ever touch him again, dammit! Let me have some sort of trust in you!"  
Francis and Gilbert were silent. They said nothing and nodded, turning back towards the stairs. They started up them, and Antonio followed, Lovino nestled tightly against his chest. They left through the front door of the house, confused stares following them out. Antonio ignored them all. These were his peers from school. If they didn't accept the fact that this was okay, that he and Lovino were allowed to be with each other, then Antonio wanted no part with them. He managed to make it back out to his car with ease, laying Lovino in the back. He kissed the Italian's forehead gently, the guilt weighing heavily on him. If only he hadn't let Gilbert drag him away… None of this would have happened if he had just stayed by Lovino like he had promised.  
Antonio sighed and shut the back door. He got behind the wheel of the car, driving back to the little house he lived in. He carried Lovino upstairs to his room and laid him down. His little Lovi… His precious Italian. Antonio had to be more careful. If he didn't keep a faithful watch over the younger boy, he'd be snatched right from Antonio's grip.  
Emerald eyes watched the sleeping form of Lovino. His chest rose and fell rhythmically.  
In.  
And out.  
In.  
And out.

{* Je voudrais le tarte à la crème de framboise, le caramel café glacé, la fraise crêpes, et le café = I would like a raspberry cream pastry, a caramel iced coffee, strawberry pancakes, and a coffee.  
{** Chou = Cabbage. The French oddly enough use the cabbage as a term of endearment. It is the American equivalent to 'Babe' or 'Sweetheart}


	8. Orphaned Fruit

Lovino could tell he was hungover before he had opened his eyes. The throbbing beneath his skull was beneficial towards proving it… He had something the night previous that left him drunk…  
Last night.  
Oh it was hell… Drunk. Bound. Gagged. Thrown in a closet. Lovino couldn't help but let the thoughts flood through his mind. He still felt the burning from the rope around his wrists. He could feel the stiffness in his shoulders from having sat there for so long. He couldn't remember what happened after he got thrown in the closet though… It was all a blur to him at this point.  
Lovino found his eyes gradually opening to a white, unfamiliar ceiling. He wasn't in the full sized bed that was against the wall in his bedroom. No. He lay in the middle of a room, a softer mattress beneath him. Lovino furrowed his brow, causing a shot of pain to run through his throbbing skull. He brought his fingers to his temples, rubbing them generously. His throat was dry and his tongue felt like sandpaper… He seriously needed some water. Another priority: find out where the hell he had ended up. There was no loud music or voices… He had to assume he wasn't at the party any longer. A gentle sigh escaped Lovino's lips before the panic set in. If he wasn't at the party any longer, where the hell was he? He quickly found himself sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, but pain ripped through his skull quickly after. He mumbled some curses in Italian to himself, resting his elbows on his knees as he fingers pressed against his eye sockets. The pressure left him no relief. It just intensified the pain.  
Lovino, despite the pounding in his head, opened his eyes and took a wide look around the room. The walls were a light brown with a darker brown as the accent on the wall with a door that Lovino assumed led to the rest of the house. There was a door to his left along with another to his right. The two of them must have held a closet as well as a bathroom. The carpets were a deep royal blue and the bed set on the king sized mattress very nearly matched. It was all a very neat set up with dark wood furniture. It seemed like the room of a married couple. Lovino didn't understand what he was doing there. His only thought was to get out.  
The Italian stood quickly, a flash of fear running through him. Bad move. Yet again. He was too hungover to do much. He groaned loudly and stumbled a bit. He was dizzy and in pain. But he wasn't sure if he had been kidnapped. That would be such an irrational fear, but to Lovino, it felt so real. Lovino stepped forward after steadying himself. His foot immediately came in contact with something soft yet unmovable and solid. He looked at the ground to see a mound of blankets. Swaddled in those blankets was a mop of curly, brown hair.  
Antonio.  
Lovino was safe. He hadn't been kidnapped. He was just in Antonio's bedroom. The Italian took another look around the bedroom, taking in a few more things he hadn't noticed before, some of Antonio's little quirks. There were posters hung around the room, old bands like the Cranberries and Nirvana. There were also Spain's national soccer teams. There were piles of clothes littered about the floor, in the corners of the room. Antonio also had a rosary hanging from a pin on the wall. It was simple and white. Lovino hadn't known Antonio was a Christian. He smiled gently and looked back at the Spaniard on the floor. He seemed to be sleeping so peacefully like Lovino had been only a few minutes before.  
Suddenly a question ran through his mind. How did he get here from that party? He could have sworn he last remembered being locked in a dark closet away from the thundering music and drunken teenagers. Had Antonio found him and carried him here? A small, warm smile crossed Lovino's lips, one that didn't come there often. He crouched down beside Antonio, looking closely at his sleeping face. He reached close to the sleeping man and brushed a few of his warm, dark curls from his face. He looked so peaceful while he slept, his chest rising and falling at a gentle rate. Lovino decided it was kind of cute.  
While Antonio slept in his heap of blankets on the floor, Lovino could have sworn he heard whispers. He leaned in closer to the Spaniard only to suck in a tiny breath. Antonio was speaking.  
"Te amo, poco Lovi," the male whispered, a small smile creeping onto his lips.  
Lovino's hand froze on Antonio's forehead, his eye wide. He didn't know Spanish well, but he knew enough to understand the murmurings. _I love you, little Lovi._  
Lovino was loved. The sensations that ran through him were strange. Antonio had said he loved Lovino so many times over, but there was something different about the words spoken in the darkness of the night. They were from Antonio's subconscious. It was as if those words were secrets that were accidentally spilled when one thought they were alone. They felt special to Lovino... These words that showed the sleeping man's true thoughts made Lovino dash away his doubts.  
He could be loved. He didn't need to fear hurting Antonio. Antonio didn't see Lovino as an introverted brat. He saw him as him, as something beautiful. Lovino didn't fear that one day he would disappear if he had Antonio around. That irrational fear of disappearance... Only death could bring that, and Antonio had stopped it. He had prevented Lovino from becoming a sour, bitter memory. Antonio cared so much about Lovino, and he was only now realizing it. A crazy, beautiful, handsome man loved Lovino.  
Who had taken hold of his arm.  
Antonio's tanned fingers held tight to Lovino's wrist. The Italian held still, his eyes wide with shock. His fingers were still touching the Spaniard's forehead, but he could not and would not move. Antonio's expression was dreamy and sleepy, but his eyes were closed. Was the bastard still asleep?  
Lovino didn't have more than a moment to ponder this notion. Antonio had tugged Lovino down to him and wrapped his arms around him. He didn't know how to react to the Spaniard's sudden movements. Did he berate him with curses or did he leave him be? A small snore issued from Antonio's lips and Lovino froze. He was still asleep. The Italian sighed and remained silent. If his perfect companion was still asleep, Lovino would leave him be. He had already done so much for Lovino. Saving his life was hardly the start. Letting the man sleep in comfort was the least he could do.  
Despite his hangover and his discomfort, Lovino found himself slowly drifting to sleep in the arms of a Spanish Tomato Bastard. He refused to think of what his Grandpa would say in the morning when he came home hungover and without Feli. He refused to think of where his little brother was; Ludwig would take care of him. Lovino was only concerned with the soft, warm curls of the man clinging to him. He fell asleep, his forehead pressed to Antonio's chest and Antonio's arms wrapped firmly around his body. After a night of hell, Lovino was in Heaven.

The sun was shining right into Lovino's eyes. It was too bright, too irritating. The little bit of light that seeped through his eyelids made his already pounding head sear with pain. Sleep hadn't helped the hangover one bit. Lovino groaned inwardly and slapped his palms over his eyes. He wanted to go back to sleep, but that seemed impossible. He had to explain to his Grandpa why he didn't come home and why he didn't know where his little brother was. He didn't really know what happened himself. He remembered a closet then waking up in Antonio's room...  
Antonio's room. Lovino was still there, in a pile of blankets on the floor. He ripped his hands from his eyes and looked around only to see the Spaniard's face above him about a foot away. Lovino choked back a shriek of surprise, color rising in his cheeks. Now that he was looking, Lovino noticed that Antonio was straddling him, his hands near Lovino's head and his knees by Lovino's hips.  
"Good afternoon, mi corazon," Antonio cooed, a smile playing on his lips. "It was a pleasant surprise to find you beside me this morning."  
Lovino instantly began to sputter out some sort of response. "What- You- pulled me to you! You bastard, this is your fault!"  
Antonio let out a giggle and pressed his forehead to Lovino's. "It was still nice to see you in my arms this morning, enticing even."  
Lovino sucked in another tight breath and didn't respond. He couldn't imagine what was going through the Spaniard's head, but he was almost positive it didn't include him letting up off the floor. And he was right. Antonio immediately sat down on Lovino's waist, pinning him in place at the midriff. He didn't know how to react. He merely made a move to sit up, but Antonio quickly countered. He grabbed Lovino's wrists and pinned them above his head with a surprising force.  
"No, no Lovi..." he whispered, a grin forming on his lips. "You are so perfect... I just want you..." Antonio then let his head touch Lovino's chest in a sad, pouty sort of way. "But why the hell do you have to be so damned young? You're jailbait..."  
Lovino said nothing, but the wide-eyed, shocked look on his face told the entire story. He didn't lash out at Antonio, and he didn't fight his grip, either. He simply stared until a few words flowed coherently from his mouth. "You want to have... sex with me?"  
The Spaniard laughed. Lovino immediately got flustered and tried to push Antonio away. He wouldn't budge an inch. Antonio must have been disgusted with him. He must have thought Lovino was revolting enough to laugh at. How could he possibly have thought Antonio would like him in that way?  
"Get off of me you bastard!" Lovino yelled, his face contorted with embarrassment and rage. "Don't just sit there and laugh at me!"  
Antonio immediately stopped. A smile was still on his lips, but he didn't dare let loose another chuckle. "You're just so bold, Lovi. You read me so well..." he muttered, leaning close to Lovino's ear. "But that's exactly what I want."  
The Italian's face flushed a deep crimson and he turned away. He didn't know what to say. He merely stammered out a simple 'oh'. He sat so still, waiting while Antonio breathed lightly on his neck. He was too stunned to think. He didn't even noticed the swelling sensation just below his waist where the Spaniard sat. Antonio kissed Lovino's neck gently and removed one of his hands from his wrists. His slender, tanned fingers reached for Lovino's waist under the hem of his shirt.  
"You're so perfect, Lovi... All mine... Would you let me?" Antonio asked, his lilting accent soft and sweet. His green eyes watched Lovino with anticipation and curiosity. Would he agree or shrug him off?  
The Italian nodded, the blush on his skin spreading to his ears and neck. "Yes..." he whispered, his voice barely audible.  
Antonio immediately leaned in close and pressed his lips to Lovino's. Their kiss was heated, perfect. Lovino pressed as close as he could, the swelling below his waist growing. His heart beat fast and his eyes fluttered close. His only thought was Antonio. Antonio with his soft, lilting accent. Antonio with his gentle but firm touch. He was surrounded in his warmth and reveling in their kiss.  
Lovino felt Antonio's hand at the button of his jeans. His fingers fumbled with it for only a moment before he managed to get it open. He yanked down Lovino's jeans to his knees, releasing his wrists. Lovino wrapped his arms around Antonio's neck, his lips still locked firmly in place. Antonio's touch was like fire on his skin, but he craved more and more. Antonio was reaching for the hem of Lovino's boxers. Lovino could take no more.  
Then the door to the bedroom opened and a girl with long, curly brown hair and green eyes stepped in.  
"Toni? I was just-" The girl stopped as soon as she saw the tangled mess of Antonio and Lovino. Her cheeks flared and she stepped back, stammering apologies. "Ahh. Shit sorry! Uhh. Toni, I'll be in the kitchen. Just err... come talk to me. Sorry."  
The girl shut the door hurriedly, and an audible groan fell from Antonio's lips. "That would be Eliza..." he muttered, his hands on his face. "Sorry, Lovi... I forgot she'd be home..."  
Lovino was shocked. He didn't know how to react. He was embarrassed for being caught with his pants down in a heated moment with his boyfriend. He was angry because of that embarrassment. A girl walked in on them in Antonio's home and he was so humiliated. He could only ask one question. 'Who the hell is she?"  
"It's a long story..." Antonio mumbled, his eyes downcast.  
Lovino didn't know how to feel. Was she Antonio's girlfriend? Was Lovino just some side hoe? He couldn't help but let the hurt seep into his voice when he spoke. "Are you two dating or something?"  
Antonio froze as if he were a deer in the headlights. He looked genuinely shocked by the question, but he recovered quickly. "Oh God, Lovi, no. Elizaveta is just a friend and she's too old for me. Lovino, please tell you are jealous over her?"  
Lovino didn't answer. He was, but he couldn't say the words aloud to admit it.  
"Lovi... I'm gay. I'm not going to date her. She's more like a sister to me... it's a long story that I don't want to bore you with."  
"Bastard, I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to know about you," Lovino blurted out. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Tell me."  
Antonio took a deep breath, his green eyes just a bit sad. "For starters, I'm eighteen. Eliza is twenty-three. There's a five-year gap between us. Secondly, she's more of a... nanny and a sister to me...  
"When I was fifteen, I realized I was gay. I had always danced with the pretty girls, but I had never felt anything towards them. The other boys were talking about sex and girls, but I was more interested in other boys. I thought they were cute, beautiful even. Girls were always just... pretty. Francis was gay from the day he came out of the womb, so when I told him of my revelation, he was only too happy to give me my first kiss.  
"My Mother walked in on us. Being a strict Spanish Catholic, she nearly had a heart attack. Her only son, kissing a blonde, French boy. My Father was livid when she told him. He had expected me to carry on the family name, raise children that would carry it along, too. Having a gay son was like eating the Forbidden Fruit from the tree in the Garden of Eden.  
"Rather than embrace my views, they cast me off as an embarrassment. They disowned me. They sent me away and set me up with a trust fund. They're rich, so it's more than enough for me to live off of for life. I'm just never to contact them. Because I was a minor, they asked Eliza to watch me. She's a family friend so they trust her. They pay her quite a bit. They bought us this house and talk to her plenty. I assume they were hoping that having a girl around would turn me straight. It didn't. Eliza is a lesbian, so... But we never told them. They would have never signed her off as my guardian otherwise.  
"They haven't spoken to me in three years. They act like I never existed, but Eliza told me my mother still cries, that she wishes my Father hadn't sent me away. It's a bit of a comfort, but not much. I honestly envy you. Your Grandfather seems so accepting. I don't have family like that. I'm an outcast, and it's a lonely existence. You are my light in a dark place, Lovino. I don't mean to make that a burden on you, but you make me happy... I couldn't bare to lose you..."  
Lovino remained silent through Antonio's entire story. Even though he wanted to yell and console Antonio, he waited until the end out of respect. Now that he was done, he felt a certain heaviness between them both. Despite all of the swelling emotions inside of him, Lovino knew just what to say.  
"They didn't deserve you. They didn't take the time to see the real you like I have. They don't see the crazy, wonderful, beautiful things I see in you, Toni... They don't deserve you, and I will earn you. I will earn a space in your life."  
"Oh, Lovi..." Antonio whispered, his emerald eyes full of tears. "You already have."  
The moments they had before were shattered, but with only a few words, they were closer. It didn't matter to Lovino that they were so close. He could handle it because he knew more about Antonio than he had ever wished to. His bastard of a boyfriend trusted enough to tell him his secrets, his pains, his agony. Lovino knew he'd have to do the same in the future. The only way they'd remain close was through trust. Lovino had to keep it.  
The two teenagers redressed, Lovino in a pair of Antonio's sweatpants and a t-shirt, and Antonio in a pair of black leggings. What possessed the Spaniard to wear the skintight pants, Lovino did not understand. One thing was for sure. They looked damned good on him. The accented his curves and his muscular legs. It left Lovino wishing that what had gone on in the bedroom had continued. Antonio didn't wear a shirt either. He had the chiseled chest of an athlete. His skin was so perfectly tanned. Lovino couldn't help but revel in the beauty of the man that walked in front of him as they made their way to the kitchen.  
Antonio walked into the threshold of the kitchen. The cabinets were all a lightwood with white and gold handles. There was an island at the center with four barstools surrounding it. Every counter top was a smooth, glossy, white and gray marble. The appliances were all sterling silver to match. It was something out of a magazine. It was gorgeous.  
Elizaveta, the curly haired girl from before, sat on one of the barstools, a mug of coffee in her hand. She was reading what looked to be a bill. She didn't notice the two boys walk in until Antonio plopped down on a stool next to her.  
"Morning Eliza," he said cheerfully, taking her mug from her hand. He took a sip and wrinkled his nose. "That's a lot of coffee and way too little sugar."  
"I like it black, Toni, so you don't drink it," she muttered. She then stiffened and looked around. She spotted Lovino standing awkwardly in the doorway and she flushed. "I'm totally sorry about earlier... I don't usually knock. And I didn't hear Toni come in last night... sorry."  
Lovino's cheeks flushed crimson and he shrugged gently in an attempt to seem relaxed. "It's okay... Antonio didn't lock his door. I'll blame him."  
Elizaveta laugh, her tension gone and Antonio just gave a falsely hurt look.  
"Well then. I'm sorry you were so cute this morning," he said, his tone snooty and joking.  
Lovino smiled gently, but didn't speak. Elizaveta had beaten him to the punch.  
"Well, maybe if you could keep your dick in your pants for the ten seconds that it would have taken you, you could have saved him the embarrassment," she shot, rolling her eyes. She then looked to Lovino. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."  
Lovino opened his mouth to speak, but squeaked when Antonio suddenly appeared behind him. How the hell he had gotten there, he didn't understand. He pulled him into a hug from behind, a smile on him lips. Damned bastard.  
"This is my lovely boyfriend, Lovi," he said, planting a kiss on Lovino's cheek.  
The Italian flushed an even deeper crimson. He was embarrassed as all hell. Once again he found himself verbally berating the Spaniard. "It's Lovino, you bastard. I've told you before, I swear.. And don't sneak up on people, dammit. Do you want to give me a heart attack?"  
"Yeah, God, Toni. Embarrass him too many times in one morning, and he'll shank you. And I didn't ask you, either. You seriously are a bastard sometimes," Elizaveta muttered. She still had a joking tone to her words, though.  
Lovino decided he liked her already.  
"Anyways. You two want some food? It's only two in the afternoon. I'll make some sandwiches and soup or something," Elizaveta asked, turning to the fridge. She didn't wait for an answer before pulling out the cheese and margarine. "Oh, by the way. Ludwig and a kid who looks just like Lovino but happier are asleep on the couch. Matt's in the closet hiding from Francis who passed out in the bathroom. And Gilbert, who managed to strip down Roderich to his boxers, are in the basement doing god knows what. Gilbert is such a fuck head sometimes... Won't leave that poor musician alone."  
Antonio looked puzzled. All of his friends had ended up in his house. "What-?"  
"What are they doing inside and how did they get past the security? I have no fucking clue, but that Prussian bastard must have done it. Francis better get home and clean his damned house before his parents freak, too..."  
Elizaveta seemed to have a serious grudge against Gilbert. It was kinda obvious after all of the venom in her voice when she said his name. Lovino didn't ponder on his further. He'd learn. He then paused. All three members of that Bad-Touch Trio in one house. Last time that happened, he ended up in a closet. Lovino wanted no part in that.  
"Antonio, I should probably get Feliciano and get home soon. Grandpa is going to freak out."  
Antonio immediately pouted, hugging Lovino tighter. "I'll drive you. I just need to wake everyone up and get them out of my house... I didn't hear them come in either. Eat and then we'll go."  
Lovino nodded just as Feliciano stumbled into the room. He looked exhausted and hungover.  
"Lovino? Antonio? My head hurts... Can I have some orange juice and Tylenol?"  
"Of course you can, Feli," Lovino said softly, placing a hand on his brother's head. This would be a damned long day.


	9. Bruised Pulp

Grandpa grounded them both along with Antonio and Ludwig who had gone inside to explain. How they were under Roma's authority, Lovino didn't understand. As far as Grandpa was concerned, all children needed to be grounded after pulling such stupid stunts.  
The two Vargas brothers were stuck inside for the last few days of their winter break. Feli seemed entirely bummed, but Lovino was worse off. He was miserable without that damned bastard around. The first day back to school came as a relief to him.  
At least it did at first.  
People were watching him as he walked down the halls. He didn't understand why. He was so used to blending it, remaining unnoticed. The stares from all of his peers left him wary and unnerved. Had someone seen him at the party? Had they seen Antonio carrying him out? Speaking of the bastard, he was nowhere to be found. Lovino had stopped at his locked before the first bell, and he had yet to see the curly haired soccer player. He had remained throughly out of sight while Lovino looked for him. There was no sign of the Spaniard.  
Until Lovino turned to put his things away. He felt two muscular, strong arms surround him from behind. He shrieked quietly, cursing at Antonio. He was being far too bold in school. Lovino was sure he was getting stares from other students. Especially when he felt a pair lips touch his cheek. He blushed, pushing Antonio.  
"Bastard, people are staring," he barked, his face red.  
"I don't care what people think. If I want to hug my boyfriend, I can," Antonio mused, loud enough for people across the hall to hear.  
Lovino could feel their stares. He didn't like it at all. He wanted them to go away. He wanted to fade back into existence, unnoticed. He knew it wouldn't happen. People were too concerned with their relationship.  
The warning bell rang. Lovino took that as his chance. He pried himself away from the Spaniard, and darted down the hall, waving as he went.  
The day went by at an agonizing rate. His classes were starting back on their normal routines of work. Math was the worst so far. Having a geometry teacher that didn't understand near death experience was difficult. The fact that he was in the hospital for a good hunk of break didn't phase the man. Not at all. He still expected his packet to be finished  
"You should have had it done before that," he chastised to a very embarrassed Lovino. "Or after. I'm sure you had time afterwards."  
Lovino accepted the low grade for the few problems he had done. Grandpa could deal with that later, he supposed. After New Years, however, he wasn't sure how his grandfather would react.  
His English teacher, however, showed him much sympathy. She was completely capable of understanding his predicament. She only asked that he finish reading the book by the following Monday. He could do that. Of Mice and Men was a small book. A week was plenty of time to finish it.  
He had even gotten a pass to see the school Guidance Counselor. All the woman wanted to talk about was if he was okay after nearly drowning. She told him that if he ever needed anyone to speak to about it, he could come to her. He didn't plan on it.  
The weirdest occurence he had had during his third hour science class was a few religious kids asking if he had seen heaven and what God was like. Lovino told them the truth; he hardly remembered. Still, while he sat in his seat, he got stares, even after the questions about him had ceased. Those stares bore into him.  
Lunch wouldn't come fast enough. It was nearly the end of his fourth class of the day. Art, a class Feliciano always showed him up in. It seemed like he would never get to see Antonio, to rid himself of the stares, of the conversations of his near death experience.  
Lovino didn't realize that's not only what the stares he was getting were for.  
The Italian finally made I to the lunchroom after being berated with questions from a few of his afternoon teachers. He assured them he was fine. He just needed to sit down and eat. The attention he was being given by all of these damned people was strange. They never gave him a second glance before. Now he was all they seemed to talk about.  
Lovino sank down into his seat at his usual table. Matt, Alfread, and Arthur were already there. Alfred was his usual loud self, and the other two sat quietly, reading. Lovino joined the silence party, relieved for that moment of quiet before Francis and Gilbert arrived. They'd just wreak havoc.  
Lovino closed his eyes briefly, dreading their arrival. When he opened them again, he saw a tanned hand holding a tomato, only inches from his face. Lovino glanced a bit upward to see a smiling Spaniard in front of him. The smile was contagious. It quickly spread onto Lovino's lips as he took the tomato. Such a bastard, but he sure did remember things well.  
"Do you want to sit outside today?" Antonio asked, his head cocked to the side. Lovino very hastily agreed, rising to his feet. He fled the cafeteria as quickly as he could without running, Antonio hot on his heels. The weather was cold, but sitting in the courtyard with someone he cared about left Lovino feeling warm. He locked his fingers with Antonio's and sat down on a dry bench. It was simple, but it was relaxing.  
"Coach realized nearly his entire soccer team was gay today during athletic conditioning today," Antonio mused. "Ludwig, Francis, Gilbert, Alfred, Kiku, Berwald, Sadik, Herakles, and I make up nine out of the eleven players."*  
Lovino raised a brow at Antonio. "He didn't realize Francis...?"  
"No one could meet Francis and not realize he was gay, the French bastard."  
Lovino snorted, shaking his head. That was only too true.  
"How has your day been, Lovi?"  
"Eh.. kinda shitty. Teachers ask if I'm okay... then I get stared at like I'm some magical phenomenon. I just want to go back to being unnoticed," Lovino muttered, his grip on Antonio's hand tightening. "Yours?"  
"Halfway decent. I had a lot of boring start up work…" he mumbled, splitting his tomato with his thumbs. He gave half of it to Lovino and bit into the other.  
Lovino sighed gently. These moments alone, together. They were what Lovino craved. The silent minutes when they could both enjoy they other's presence. They set Lovino at ease and made him feel a moment of relief in his whirlwind world. These moments held him together like the skin of a tomato held in the flesh, seeds, and juices. He didn't mention this to the boy beside him. He kept this analogy to himself. He safeguarded his thoughts. It might not have been best, but it was what he felt comfortable with. Telling Antonio could make things confusing or better. Lovino wasn't ready to risk it just yet.  
The Italian bit into his half of the tomato. It was warm and sweet, as if it had been sitting in the pocket of Antonio's hoodie, collecting his body heat.  
"Thank you," he said softly, a small smile finally creeping onto his lips.

It was finally the last class of the day. Finally. Lovino craved the day to be over, he craved his soft, warm bed. The first day of torture would soon be over… but he wasn't excited for this particular class. PE. Physical Education. Lovino was not athletic. He wasn't in shape. Sure, he was slender, but he couldn't run a mile to save his life. He could hardly lift more than fifty pounds total on the bench press. It was pathetic.  
The first day back from vacation marked the part of PE that Lovino seemed to be dreading the most.  
The swimming unit.  
The Italian stepped onto the pool deck, towel folded against his chest. A few girls and boys sat around, their feet in the water; the class was co-ed. The only person he managed to recognize was a very out-of-place musician with glass. Roderich. He sat alone, his towel wrapped around him like a blanket. He seemed more confused and awkward that Lovino felt. He slowly crossed over to the Austrian and sighed.  
"You seem out of it, too…" Lovino mumbled, standing next to him.  
"I enjoy swimming. Just not with a load of barbaric boys and half nude girls. Look at them!" he said softly, his eyes wide with horror.  
Lovino had very nearly the same thoughts. Hell, he didn't want anyone seeing him in a pair of swim trunks that hugged his rear end way too tightly. He sighed gently and sat on a bench lining one of the walls. Roderich sat down besides him just as their PE teacher walked into the room, Coach Flannigan. She was an older woman, but she wasn't a force to be reckoned with. Neither was her class assistant, the stunning beautiful yet ferocious, Charlotte… Lovino had never spoken to her or said a word to her. She had only shouted her demands at him. He didn't expect any difference today on her part.  
"Listen up, everyone!" Coach yelled, gesturing for the students to sit on the benches beside Lovino and Roderich. "Today we're just going to test how well you perform in the water. If you think you can handle the deep end, then be my guest and go wait by the edge. I'll attend to you first. If you can't swim, well, I'll be teaching you how over the course of the next three weeks. Let's get to it!"  
Lovino could swim. He knew how. He had learned as a small child with Feliciano and Grandpa. He easily sauntered over to the deep end. When he looked to see if Roderich had followed, he noticed the Austrian towards the shallows, his towel still wrapped tightly around his shoulder. He figured the Austrian couldn't swim then. Lovino shrugged lightly and waited for Coach to come back over to them. She started in alphabetical order. Lovino, sadly, was at the very end of that list. He wanted to get this over and done with. He sat along the edge, watching the other students swim across the pool with ease. He could tell some of these were on the swimming team the way they flaunted and showed off. Lovino, on the other hand, was average.  
It finally came to his time in the water.  
"Lovino Var-" she called, stopping mid-name. She looked up at him, her brows raised. "You sure you want to start at this end?"  
Lovino could only assume she was referring to what had… Happened. He hesitated for a moment. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to get back in the water. Sure he could handle showers and his bathtub, but he had never gone swimming since then. He took a look at the people around him. They were staring. He could only assume it was because they, too, were curious about his decision. He furrowed his brow and turned back to Coach Flannigan. There was no way in hell that he was going to back out of this. He felt himself being challenged by their stares and their questions. He gritted his teeth before making his decision.  
"I'll be fine. Just tell me when to go," he said, climbing onto the diving platform.  
This was a time swimming challenge. He had to get from the deep end to the shallows. This was an ordinary, high school sized pool. It wasn't such a bad distance. He pulled his goggles on, snapping the elastic strap back against his school. He brought his hands to the edge and when the whistle was blown, he dove.  
When the Italian first hit the water, he felt panic rushing at him from all sides. He was crazy, he was nuts. He shouldn't have been doing this, diving into the water like a complete idiot. No. This reminded him too much of drowning. He had drowned… The memories were shooting up everywhere. The dark, churning water. The tossing, forceful waves. Sinking, sinking, sinking down onto the depths of the ocean floor. God, no he couldn't handle it. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and he forced them open so he could swim back to the top.  
There was a difference in this pool. It was light, calm, and warm. There wasn't cold water that clawed at his lungs, forcing away the deep breath he had taken only milliseconds before. This wasn't the ocean, forcing him under. Here he had so much control. He could make it, he was sure. He swam forward, ignoring the world above and the slight nagging in his lungs. He swam forward, waiting until he reached the line that divided the shallows from the deep end to surface. He then made a beeline for the end of the pool.  
Lovino knew he was moving quickly. Even though this water wasn't going to kill him just by being in it, he still had that rising fear of drowning. The memories were strong enough to make him scared of being in it for much longer. He was so close. He made one last stroke with his arms and slammed his palm against the edge of the pool. He was done. He didn't need to swim anymore. He heaved himself out of the water, breathing heavily.  
Coach stalked over to him and crouched beside him. He felt as though she'd berate him for some unknown reason. But she did the exact opposite. She slapped her palm against his soaked skin, giving him an encouraging smile.  
"It takes guts to get back in the water after what you've experienced… I thought for sure I'd have to fish you out," she said softly, loud enough for only him to hear. "Good job kid…"  
That was all she said. She left Lovino feeling elated and embarrassed. His elation was the pride she felt in him. The embarrassment was for her former lack of confidence. It didn't matter though. Lovino was safe on the edge of the pool where the water couldn't drown him. That was bad… He'd have a hell of a lot worse time when they began treading water… Or when the other students decided they wanted to play rough. Oh god, this was going to be a long course.

Lovino stood under the shower head in the locker room, letting the hot water pour down over his skin. The scent of chlorine had long since left him, but he still felt the drying grime of it. He lathered himself in soap for what seemed like the umpteenth time.  
He was almost positive he was the last one in the locker room. The bell had rung nearly ten minutes ago. He finally felt safe to strip down out of his trunks. He let them slide down his wet thighs and hit the floor. His towel was nearby just in case anyone came in. He stood there for a few minutes longer, allowing the hot water to work its magic. This time to himself gave him time to think about more things than just the last hour of his life.  
The class hadn't gone bad. Coach finished testing the rest of the kids while Lovino sat with Roderich who was absolutely petrified. The Austrian shouldn't have been worrying, though. He could swim. Well. He may have been thin, but there was a certain beauty about him that made the girls in the class stare. Lovino was sure Gilbert would have been jealous.  
The Austrian swam the width of the pool with an ease and grace that made Coach test him from the deep end. Once again, Roderich swam with that beauty and grace. The girls swooned and the guys wretched. Roderich, on the other hand, let the water in a flourish, his face thoroughly flushed. At least he didn't get any inquiries on fear after his test.  
Lovino had been asked by most every girl in the class whether or not he was scared getting back into the water. Whether or not he was going to drop the class. He murmured a few embarrassed replies, assuring them he was fine and that he was staying. He had one ulterior motive for keeping the class. He wanted to get into just a bit of shape before he found himself nearly naked in front of Antonio again.  
Twice now Antonio had seen Lovino while he was out of shape. Twice he had seen his pitifully thin and muscleless body. Lovino was going to change that even if it meant he had to hit the school gym after school.  
Lovino sighed. He had been standing under the water making his skin prune long enough. He turned off the water, rung out his semi-long hair, and wrapped his towel around his waist before venturing back to the cubicle where his gym locker was. No one was in the locker room, much to his happiness. He put in his combination on his locked and opened it. After letting his towel drop to the floor, Lovino pulled on his boxers.  
That's when he heard it.  
The laughter. It stilled Lovino and left him petrified. He didn't recognize the laughter, but the words that followed it were only too clear.  
"Did you see that faggot Antonio was rubbing up on this morning?" one of the voices asked.  
"Those damn gays need to learn that their place isn't in the middle of a school hallway. If they want to make out, they need to go crawl back home…" the other growled.  
"I don't get how they can screw each other like that! Who wants to have a dick shoved up their ass?" the first asked.  
Lovino tried not to listen as he scrambled to pull on his t-shirt. Oh, fuck. He could hear them coming closer, their raucous laughter coming nearer. He didn't want to be caught by them. Oh, God, he wanted to hide. They were just outside his little cubicle when they stopped talking abruptly. Oh God, they had seen him.  
"Speak of the devil, it's the little fag that's distracting Antonio… Probably stayed back hoping to see some of the swimming team while they're changing, I bet," the second boy said.  
"Such a little faggot…" the first grumbled, taking a menacing step towards Lovino.  
The Italian back against the lockers. He was cornered. He couldn't get away. There was nowhere to run. He was cornered like a man in a lion's den.  
"You think we should put him in his place?" the first boy asked.  
"I think a bit of a beating could knock the gay out of him… Hell, if it doesn't, it'll show him not to try and screw around with any of the guys here…"  
Lovino was in a panic, but they came at him so quickly. He got a punch to the stomach and then a knee to his nether regions. He sank to the floor, the urge to vomit rising instantly. He curled himself into a ball on the floor, protecting his head while the kicked him over and over. Ribs, back, legs, stomach. Ribs, back, legs, stomach. Their abuse seemed to last so long. Lovino could feel the bruised and cuts forming on his skin, but he didn't cry out for help. He knew no one was in the locker room to hear him. Someone would have heard the taunts and stopped this before it began if there had. He felt as though he was going to die. He was out of breath from the constant kicks to his ribs. The pain was everywhere. He was sure at least one or two of his bones has snapped. He was in pure agony.  
And then it stopped. The boys left, leaving him with their spit on his face and bruises all over his body. When he heard the locker room door open and then close with their fading laughter, then and only then did Lovino allow himself to let out a breathless sob. The pain was excruciating and he felt as though he could hardly move. He didn't want to. He couldn't even bring it in himself to finish getting dressed. He just lied there in a fetile position, tear pooling down his cheeks. Taking a breath hurt. The sobs that wracked his chest hurt. Dashing the tears from his eyes hurt. Everything hurt.  
When the door of the locker room opened, and Lovino feared that they were back for more. He silenced himself, hoping they didn't come back to check, praying they hadn't brought friends. Lovino wasn't prepared for the soft, worried tone that came from not too far away.  
"Lovino?" called a lilting Spanish voice. Oh, God, Antonio. Lovino let loose another sob, this one audible enough for the other male to hear. The next time Antonio spoke, his voice was full of alarm and apprehension. "Lovi?"  
The Italian heard fast footsteps coming towards him. He cracked his swollen eyes open to see Antonio right at the entrance of the small cubicle. His green eyes were wide with alarm. He dropped down next to Lovino, stammering things rapidly.  
"Oh, dios mio! Oh, dios mio!" Antonio rambled, his hands shaking.  
He wiped Lovino's tears from his eyes, kissing his cheeks gently. He then looked over the small, bruised Italian. Lovino saw Antonio's green eyes physically darken. Lovino felt an ounce of fear rising in his gut. He had never seen the Spaniard look so angry.  
"Lovino, when I find out who did this to you…" he whispered before fishing his cell phone from his pocket. He dialed a number in his phone and waited while it rang. When the person he called answer, Antonio was clipped and cold. "Gilbert? No. I don't want to go drink with you. Gilbert- Oh, holy hell, Gilbert! Will you let me speak? Gilbert! Get the damned Principal, a Dean, security. Bring them to the boy's locker room. Tell them it's an emergency! Don't ask me why! God, dammit Gilbert! Just do it!"  
Antonio hung up the phone, but Lovino was too delirious from pain to care. His tears had stopped, but his breathing was still too labored. He had not asked for this. This was not something he had brought upon himself. He just wanted the pain to go away. He didn't want to see that worried look on Antonio's face anymore. He didn't want to see his hidden anger…  
Lovino felt a sense of relief when Antonio draped his shirt over his waist just as the school administration stampeded into the room. Antonio left Lovino's side for only a moment to call them over. Lovino looked up at the Principal and the Dean with pained, brown eyes. They looked back at him with eyes wide and full of shock. Gilbert stood on the outside, his features shocked. The Principal knelt down beside him, his eyes full of worry.  
"Who did this to you?" he asked, his hand floating in the space between Lovino's head and the Principal's own side. He seemed unsure if he should touch Lovino. He didn't allow Lovino to reply to his question; he couldn't have anyways without speaking in strangled gasps. "Someone call an ambulance, the police, his guardian. Gilbert, quit smiling because you did something right for once. You can have out of your detention Thursday."  
Antonio pulled out his phone and called Roma. Lovino couldn't bear to hear the sadness in Antonio's voice as he spoke to his Grandfather. He could only imagine his Grandfather's tone. Lovino couldn't bear any of it… He lay there waiting, pained, hurting, wanting it to all go away.  
The ambulance came. Paramedics lifted Lovino onto a stretcher, straightening out his curled limbs. The pain was horrible. His ribs were for sure cracked, at least fractured. Lying on his back offered him a little more breath, but not much. He felt his consciousness drifting in and out as he was led out into the bright light. His last sight as he was ushered into the ambulance was Antonio's distraught face and anguished, angered green eyes. The doors closed, and Antonio was left standing there, watching, hoping his little Italian would be alright.

Antonio heard snickering as the ambulance pulled away. He heard laughter and snide comments about gays and faggots learning their place. Antonio felt a rage flare inside of him as he turned to face two boys. They held themselves with such a cocky superiority. It made Antonio sick.  
Before the Spaniard realized what he was doing, he was on the boys, holding them inches above the ground by the collars of their shirts against the brick wall of the school. His green eyes blazed with fury. They gazed down at him with horrified expressions. Surely they expected as much, didn't they?  
"You hurt him, didn't you?" he snarled through gritted teeth. He pulled them away from the wall and slammed them back into it. "Tell me, now!"  
The boys stammered out their responses, denying it all. Antonio didn't buy it. He saw the guilt in their eyes. He snarled again, looking at the males dead in the eyes.  
"You beat the living crap out of a sixteen year old kid because why? Because he was gay, a 'faggot'?" he snarled, his eyes alive with malice and fury. "Gays are real people, too. We may be different, but we still feel pain. We still feel hurt. We still feel a damn kick to the ribs and spit on our faces." Antonio felt a presence behind him that he could only assume was Gilbert. He could only imagine his friend's face at that very moment. "If I ever see you near him, if you ever even think about laying another finger on him, I will find you and I will kill you. A Spaniard's promise is his word. Don't make me follow it."  
Antonio dropped the two boys and backed away from the two. Gilbert stepped up, but Antonio did not see what he did. He could only imagine that there was blood. Antonio sucked in a breath, reliving the sight he had just seen over and over in his heard. His Lovino, his poor Italian… Bruised like an apple, softly spots of damaged pulp littering his skin. Lovino did not deserve this. He didn't deserve to be treated like crap. Antonio sucked in a tight breath, and for the first time in a long time, he cried. He let his tears run free down his cheeks from his emerald eyes.  
The only reason her cried: He could not protect the boy he loved from even the kids at school. If he couldn't do that, how was he supposed to protect him through sickness and in health? Was it through death that they'd finally part? And would it all be Antonio's fault?

{*Kiku: Japan, Berwald: Sweden, Sadik: Turkey, Herakles: Greece, Charlotte: Belarus}


	10. Bittersweet Memories

((This chapter proceeds over a few months. It was the best I could do. Also, this chapter contains EXPLICIT CONTENT. So if that offends you, suck it up and skip it, because this chapter is essential for understanding the future plot line. Love ya. The next chapter will be way better because of the loveliness of the version of Lovi. Tata for now.))

Feliciano was whining, crying, pleading with a very angry and distraught Grandpa Roma while Lovino laid and listened, pretending to be asleep. His little brother drove a hard case on why Lovino shouldn't be pulled out of school. Grandpa drove an even harder one.  
"He's been attacked, Feli!" Grandpa roared, his voice in a hushed whisper.  
"But, Grandpa! How is he supposed to learn if he's pulled out? You work all day!" Feliciano cried, his voice hysterical yet quiet.  
"I can hire a tutor," Roma stated in a matter of fact tone.  
Lovino could hear the Feli's intake of breath. He was holding something back and Lovino knew it just from the pause in his words.  
"Feli... what aren't you telling me?"  
Lovino opened his eyes fractionally to see Feliciano shaking his head rapidly.  
"Feli, by God, tell me or so help me I will..."  
"You will what?" Feliciano snapped, a sudden ferocity in his voice. Lovino was shocked, but he remained expressionless. He pretended to sleep. "You'll pull me out of school, too? It's because he's gay, Grandpa, that they hurt him."  
"Why are you making such rash accusations, Feliciano? I never thought I'd hear something like that from you. Your brother isn't gay," Roma said, his tone laced with disappointment.  
Grandpa didn't know. He didn't understand.  
"Grandpa, you haven't seen him with Antonio like I have," Feliciano pleaded, his voice panicked. He then slapped a hand over his mouth. Lovino heard him suck in a breath. "Grandpa, we're both like that... we're both gay."  
Roma opened his mouth to speak, but a lilting Spanish voice cut him off.  
"Feliciano is right, Sir. They went after him because he's gay..." he whispered, his voice pained and full of sorrow. Lovino opened his eyes fractionally to catch Antonio's gaze, but the Spaniard was facing Grandpa. "My biggest regret was that I wasn't there to stop it, that for the second time I couldn't protect him from myself and the burdens I put on him..."  
At this, Lovino's eyes flew open. He sat upright quickly, ready to shout his obscenities, ready to curse Antonio for any of the dumb shit that was spewing from his lips.  
"You fuck!" Lovino roared. Or, well, he would have liked to roar. His breath came out shallow and pained. He was sure at this point he had cracked quite a few ribs, at least three. "You're not blaming this shit on yourself. Someone should be sending for Sheriff Beilschmidt, not standing around here, watching me sleep like creeps, you bastards!" Every face was turned towards Lovino, expressions surprised and shocked. Of course. They hadn't known he was listening, fully aware of their conversation. With a groan of frustration, Lovino swiftly tacked on, "Yes, I'm gay, Grandpa. I swear, I thought you knew after that Christmas party..."  
Lovino huffed heavily, crossing his arms over his chest. He was primarily gauging their reactions. So far, Antonio had the best one. It was a mix of amusement and surprise.  
"Are you just going to gawk at me with that damn smile or are you going to be a good boyfriend and fluff my damned pillows, you asshole. God, so fucking inconsiderate."  
Lovino didn't know what had happened, but a sudden spark had been ignited in him. He was slowly returning to his old self, a very angry but well-witted Italian. After having the snot beat out of him, Lovino wasn't going let others push him around. Sure he would still always have that sensitive side to him, but there was not going to be anymore hurt in his life. It had started in a breath and it was ending in this hospital room. That was the end of it.  
Lovino smiled gently when Antonio came over and readjusted his pillows. The new height felt good. He was bruised and broken in places, but he would get over it. He had a perfect bastard in front of him.  
"Lovino..." Roma started after a moment or two of silence.  
"You're not taking me out of school, Grandpa. There is no question," he shot, before his grandfather could formulate a sentence. "What kind of person would I be if I didn't shove this back in their faces. You better hope to hell I'll retaliate. Hurt me once, shame on you. Hurt me fucking twice, shame on me."  
Grandpa had a defeated look on his face. Lovino, however, was sent. He would not argue on such a topic. There was no way in hell. He then looked to Feliciano, his gaze softening. His little brother seemed so shocked. He probably didn't know what to say.  
"Feli, Ludwig better treat you right, or I'll have problems with him, too," Lovino muttered. His little brother's boyfriend was a good guy, but Lovino had long since decided that he'd take no shit when it came to Feli's happiness. The Italian gave his younger brother a protective, loving look and the younger boy broke. He flung his arms around Lovino, circling him into a tight hug.  
"Oh, Lovino! I love you! You care so much about me and I love you and you are the best big brother in the world! Please don't go into the hospital anymore! I will cry if you do because you keep getting hurt and I don't want my big brother to get hurt!" Feliciano sobbed, crushing Lovino  
The older Italian gasped out a pained reply. "Feli, please. I promise I won't, but you have to let me go!" Lovino mumbled.  
Feliciano stepped back quickly, blushing a bright crimson and stammering out apologies. Lovino could only smile at his brother's bashfulness. Lovino felt a sort of bond growing between him and Feliciano. Instead of showing a pitiful, broken, wounded spirit, he remained strong. It was time to turn his back on fear. He wanted to encourage his younger brother rather than to teach him to live in fear of himself, of his sexuality. Lovino had determined a goal for himself. He wanted to be a positive influence upon the lighthearted boy in front of him. He wanted to teach Feli that the bastards of the world could never crush him or change him. There would always be physical wounds at some point, but those wounds would heal. They could never break Feliciano unless he let them. Lovino had learned this so late in the game, but he was now set upon making sure Feliciano, his beloved fratello, knew.*  
Lovino hoped he could convey his each and every thought to his brother. He wanted him to understand that being gay made him no less human. Having the crap beat out of him would hurt, but it would never mean he'd have to change. Lovino looked at Feliciano with a look that held a million words. By the look on his younger brother's face, he understood.  
The shorter boy nodded fractionally before turning to Roma. "Grandpa, let's get Lovino some food. Maybe they have pasta in the food court!"  
The older Italian smiled a small, exasperated smile. Sometimes, he could not understand how his brother could go from serious to happy in the blink of an eye, but he managed it. He watched his grandfather and brother exit the hospital room. He was now alone with one handsome, amazing, frustrating Spaniard that was, like the day they had met, staring him down with the most intense, beautiful green eyes.  
"The last time you were in a room like this, we both felt pain. This time, however, is the opposite," he whispered in a playful tone. He pulled the curtains around Lovino's bed closed in a flourish before locking Lovino in the most intense, heart throbbing kiss.  
The Italian was pinned beneath Antonio's muscular chest and arms. Lovino could feel his heartbeat against his own. Oh, God, it was so perfect. He was close enough for Lovino to smell him. He carried the scents of sunshine, cologne, and home. The scent was intoxicating. Before Lovino realized, his hand was fisting into the Spaniard's hair. His curls were soft and slightly unwashed, warm to Lovino's touch. They belonged to Antonio and made him him. Lovino kissed Antonio with every bit of passion he could muster. If emotions could be felt through touch, then that was his intention. He wanted Antonio to understand his gratitude, his love, his pain, and his happiness. He wanted Antonio to understand his likes and dislikes, his dreams and fears. He wanted Antonio to understand every part of him.  
But most of all, he wanted Antonio to understand that they'd never let entwine get in the way of their love.  
No longer did Lovino want people hurting their relationship. He wanted Antonio to understand that nothing would make them part. Not bullies, not patents, not even each other. There would be obstacles, and Lovino expected them to be rough, but they'd pull through, as always.  
Everything, he hoped Antonio would understand from a single, heated kiss.  
Lovino wanted to create some sort of commitment and future between them. He wanted to go through all of their pain together, their happiness, their love. He wanted to share those moments with Antonio. He wanted to make memories. He wanted to attend those events and watch his perfect companion walk across the stage.  
And that is exactly what he did.  
It was now May. The bruises and broken bones that were once Lovino were now gone. They were a painful, yet enlightening memory. They taught him to be strong, to prove something the to assholes of the world. He wasn't afraid, and their beating wouldn't change him. No scars were left behind but the ones on his memory. Lovino knew he'd get over them easily, especially if he had Antonio, no matter how frustrating he was.  
Today was oriented around the graduating Seniors. Among those was the Bad-Touch Trio. Gilbert - despite all initial doubt to whether or not he was graduating - was the first of the three to be called. The albino sauntered across the stage in a crimson cap and gown, pumping his fists in the air and smiling at his brother and grandfather like an idiot. The family of Italians that knew the boy well couldn't help but chuckle.  
The older boy had finally made it through high school. He had even managed to stay out of detention for at least a week. It wasn't a difficult feat for most of the seniors, but for Gilbert... Trouble just seemed to follow him everywhere.  
The next member of the Bad-Touch Trio that walked across the stage was the lovely and perverted Francis Bonnefoy. He to was wearing the crimson robes that the boys wore. His attire was just slightly different, however, than Gilbert's. Francis had adorned a single white rose behind his ear. He took hold of his diploma, shook the principal's hands, and flashed a very dazzling smile before leaving the stage. Prior to taking his seat, though, he walked in front of a very stunned valedictorian. Matthew had a look complete horror and amusement as Francis, in a flourish, took the rose and very gently handed it to the Canadian. A few whistles and cheers echoed from the crowd and the thoroughly embarrassed Matthew flushed a deep crimson. Francis merely sauntered back to his seat with a big of swagger in his step.  
The final member of the Trio to be called to walk the stage was Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. Lovino stared in awe as the male walked up the stairs with his clumsy grace. He stood more handsome than the other boys that had walked. He stood with a confident defiance, his green eyes focused. He took hold of his scroll of parchment that stated his graduation with his tan, slender, calloused fingers. The white stood out clearly against his skin, but that was not what Lovino focused on. He focused on the burning green gaze and the corny, beautiful smile of the Spaniard as he picked Lovino from the crowd and stared him down. No one else saw what those two did. They didn't see the love and compassion that surged between them. It was unspoken and it was confidential, but they didn't care.  
Antonio left the stage and returned to his seat and other students were called. Nothing else mattered in the ceremony. It was all boredom. Occasionally Lovino saw someone he knew vaguely. Sometimes he smiled at another one of the seniors from his lunch table. Like all graduations, the ceremony was long and drawn out. There wasn't too much sadness. It was as if these seniors were opening a new door. They'd see each other, especially the closer friends. Francis was sure to throw more parties. Antonio was sure to drag Lovino along.  
Nothing would change between the two of them. Lovino finally understood that such a closeness was hard to break. There was no ascertainable force that could break them apart. There was nothing to be foreseen.  
The hands of the two boys were linked as they ambled down the street. One of the boys towered over the other, but it didn't seem out of place. The shorter of the two seemed to look up to the taller one, to admire his strikingly beautiful features. Lovino couldn't help but admire those blazing green eyes. He never could. The Spaniard always had that carefree look on his features that Lovino loved. He thought the Spanish bastard magnificent.  
While his right hand was in use, his other held a quickly melting ice cream cone. The Italian couldn't help but wrinkle his nose at the fact that Antonio was so keen on buying Italian ice. He thought he was cute, the way he made his puns, the way he had his gown strewn over his shoulder, the way his sleeves were rolled up, the way he laughed, the way his curls blew free of the cap he had tossed at the end of the ceremony... the list could go on and on...  
And Lovino was staring. And Antonio was staring back. The younger boy mentally kicked himself. Like the day they had met, Lovino had been caught in the act of staring. This time, however, he didn't feel that slight annoyance. He only felt a spark, a spark of love and compassion. Antonio grinned his same toothy grin, and scooped a dollop of Italian ice from his cone. He plopped that dollop onto Lovino's nose before he could stop him. The charged moment was suddenly gone and Lovino found the urge to want to yell.  
That is until Antonio leaned in and sucked the sticky, cold desert from the tip of his nose. He smiled and drew closer so that he was level with Lovino's ear.  
"It tastes better coming off of you... I'm sure the rest of you tastes amazing, too..." the Spaniard whispered. He drew back and wagged his eyebrows slightly.  
Antonio had said so little, but it left Lovino hot and bothered, flushed and ready.  
"Bastard, don't say those things!" Lovino berated, clenching his fists.  
"But Lovi," Antonio whispered, wagging his eyebrows proactively. "I'm oh so very serious."  
Lovino sucked in a breath, his big brown eyes fluttering. He could only imagine what Antonio meant. So many thoughts crossed his mind, but the first was the interrupted time in Antonio's bedroom. Would tonight be like that... but more? The warm swelling had already started to grow below Lovino's waist. He didn't want to bring it to attention. Her subtly let his suit jacket hang in front of him. The carefree Spaniard didn't seem to notice, though.  
The couple walked the familiar route home. Years ago, when Lovino had first moved to the town, he would have gotten lost in the grid system. Italy was chaos, but he had known it, he had understood the madness. Here it was simple, but everything looked the same. The houses, the streets. There were few landmarks and little to differentiate. Now, after living there for so long, everything felt familiar. He understood how many blocks west he had to go to get to the school. His feet remembered the path home and he remembered the way to the ice cream parlor on the main road. He had become accustomed to the organization of the town; he understood, and at this point, when everything in his life was finally falling into place, turning towards the bright side, he didn't want it to change. For now, it seemed it wouldn't.  
Lovino, lost in his thoughts, hadn't noticed the gradual shift towards Antonio's home that the two boys had made. He hardly noticed until he had reached the door. He was stuck in his memories, his silent reveries, but now he was being pulled away, back towards reality and life in the real world.  
"Eliza isn't home..." Antonio mumbled, his voice alluring and pleased. "She went to a party with Gilbert. They're old friends..."  
Lovino nodded gently, watching the Spaniard turn his key in the lock of the door. He didn't understand why, but that single sentence had thrown Lovino into a whirlwind. His already sensitive emotions were crumbling. Time seemed to move so slowly. He wanted to get inside, to get to a bathroom to relieve the pulsating throb beneath his belt before he had to face the embarrassment. He followed Antonio through the now open door.  
"I'm going to head to the bathroom," Lovino mumbled softly, hanging his jacket on the coat rack. He didn't get more than two steps before his arm was grabbed.  
Lovino turned to face Antonio and immediately found his lips locked into a deep kiss. He was breathless in a moment, his knees weak and his stomach full of butterflies.  
"You can't get away so easily, Lovi," Antonio whispered, his breath against the Italian's lips. "You can't hide this from me." Lovino knew what he meant. How could he not when Antonio's hand was suddenly there, gripping him.  
Lovino inhaled sharply, his pulse racing. Antonio didn't just want to sit and talk like usual. He wanted more, and Lovino would gladly give it. The smaller boy pressed closer to the older one. He could feel Antonio's hard erections against his stomach. The both of them were so warm, so still, so needy. In a single, fluid motion, Antonio dropped everything he was holding and picked Lovino up from under his legs. The small Italian let out a shriek, but for once he did not protest. Antonio carried him through the kitchen and living room and into his bedroom with ease, his lips sucking on Lovino's neck.  
Since their first night together after New Years, the two boys had been in there many times. They preferred Antonio's house for the privacy it provided. Feliciano wasn't able to walk in on them there. They only had to worry about Elizaveta who always seemed to knock before entering. Although they had so much privacy to themselves, Antonio had never tried to press Lovino any further than that first night. Since then they had only kissed. They hadn't even showered together again, much to Lovino's bitterness  
Once in the bedroom, Antonio lay Lovino down, pinning him with a kiss. Lovino respond so passionately, his breath coming out faster and faster. Antonio had started to unbutton the Italian's shirt, leaving his chest bare. He was scrawny and self-conscious, but at this singular moment, Lovino did not care. Once Lovino's shirt was gone, Antonio removed his own.  
"Do you want this Lovi?" Antonio asked suddenly, his green eyes wide with alarm. He had only just realized how many boundaries he was crossing with any sort of consent.  
"Bastard, don't you think I would have told you?" Lovino shot. He didn't want Antonio to stop. His touch, his kiss, it was so much worse than nicotine.  
Antonio took Lovino's response as the say So to go forward. His hands nimbly unbundled the Italian's belt and pants before sliding them down. With his pants went his socks and dress shoes. All the while, Antonio's kisses continued against his lips, down his jaw, and against his neck. He finally stopped on the reddish, circular patch of skin right above his heart. Antonio sucked lightly on Lovino's nipple, making it stand erect.  
Once again the Italian was lost. It wasn't his thoughts and memories this time; he was in the middle of a crowded world filled with lust and euphoria. He didn't notice that Antonio had removed his own dress pants. He didn't realize that the Spaniard's fingers were creeping on the waistband of his boxers. He didn't notice until the taut fabric was sliding down his thighs. His moment of euphoria were broken. He was self conscious in a moment and made a move to stop Antonio. The Spaniard, however, seemed to expect it. He was quick to grab and pin Lovino's slender wrists above his head. He squirmed slightly, but formed no words of protest. Antonio took that as the green light to pull Lovino's boxers down to expose his erect member.  
The Italian and the Spaniard both sucked in simultaneous breaths. Antonio's was a gasp of surprise while Lovino's was of relief. Lovino felt the air against his hot skin. He was already ready for this. His member was already moist. He looked at Antonio with blazing amber eyes through dark lashes. He saw Antonio suck his another breath as his eyes darkened with what must have been lust.  
Antonio removed his hand from Lovino's wrists only to spread the Italian's legs. Lovino watched the Spaniard stick two of his fingers into his own mouth for a few moments, sucking on them gently before pulling them out. He didn't warn the younger boy before he touched him _there_. A shiver ran down Lovino's spine and he let loose a moan. Antonio hadn't even penetrated and Lovino was melting. To Lovino, it was pitiful, but for Antonio, it was motivation.  
There was a pause of a few moments before Antonio's tanned fingers pushed into Lovino's tender, tight hole. The Italian was muttering curses under his breath in an instant. It was painful, but the pain wasn't unbearable. It was pleasurable. Antonio moved his fingers in an out, in and out. What the Spaniard could do with only two fingers was magic. He spread and prepared Lovino for a few minutes before withdrawing them with a deliberate slowness. Lovino looked crestfallen. His pleasure had ceased, but the sight of Antonio removing his boxers opened many new doors. Lovino watched as the older boy produced a jar of lubricant and covered his own erect sex in it. He watched with a guilty pleasure as he drew closer.  
There were no words to be spoken. Antonio climbed on top of Lovino, pinning his hands beneath his own once more. Lovino's eyes fluttered as Antonio settled himself on top of him. Their lips joined for one last heated time before Antonio plunged in, penetrating Lovino deep. The Italian cried out against Antonio lips, but his pain was short lived. Yes, Antonio may have been able to work magic with his fingers, but what he could do with the rest of his body was god-like. Lovino was sweating by the time Antonio had managed to push himself all the way in.  
Slowly he withdrew and plunged back in, in and out, in and out. The rhythm was the same as that of his fingers, but this time Antonio hit deeper. Lovino was fuller this time, and with that there was more pleasure. The Spaniard was quick to find the younger boy's prostrate. With each plunge he managed to hit it, to leave Lovino falling apart.  
Lovino gave no warning. He came against Antonio, crying out as he did. He felt weak and tired, but he was able to feel Antonio coming only moments later. The two boys, at the height of losing their virginity, lay in a heap together, panting, sweating, breathing.  
At this point, they seemed to be inseparable.

The ringing had gone on for what seemed to be hours to Antonio's half-conscious mind, but in reality in had only been a few minutes. The doorbell hadn't stopped, hadn't paused. Neither had the pounding on his front door. But it didn't matter, it didn't seem to, not with his perfect Italian lying in his arms. The day previous had been more than words could describe. Antonio didn't want it to end. He could have laid there for another few hours if the ringing and pounding had ceased. It was amazing that Lovino could sleep through it.  
Antonio slowly disentangled himself from Lovino, careful not to wake him. He needed his rest after yesterday's events. The Spaniard threw on a pair of sweatpants before creeping from the safety of his room. He swept through the house, glancing at a clock on his way. It was only six in the morning. Who could be pounding on his door at this time? The light was dim in the living room, but he was able to make out the form of Eliza crouched in front of the door. She had a confused, worried look on her face, but upon seeing Antonio, she was flooded with relief. She spoke in a hushed, rapid whisper.  
"Antonio. I'm sorry I didn't wake you, but I didn't know what to do with Lovino here…" she whispered. "I'm supposed to be making sure you're staying straight and you were sleeping together! I didn't want to freak out poor Lovino, so I just hid and hoped she'd go away! I'm sorry, Toni!"  
Antonio was reeling. He was confused. What did this stranger have to do with him being straight? Why did this stranger matter. And then it hit him. His family had come. "Eliza… Tell me, who is it outside?" he asked in a cool, surprisingly calm voice.  
"Your grandmother…" she whispered, his eyes wide with terror and tears.  
Antonio closed his eyes, letting loose a breath. He had expected this day to come, but not so soon. The Spaniard ushered Elizaveta from the doorway and turned the deadbolt. He slowly opened the front door to face a plump, short woman with gray hair.  
"Abuela," he said softly. He may have looked tired with his tousled hair and sleep-ridden eyes, but he was wide-awake. He couldn't have been anything but in this life destroying moment.  
"Antonio," the woman said, her tone heavily accented. The woman may have had a thick accent, but she spoke English fluently. "May I come in?"  
The Spaniard nodded reluctantly, allowing his grandmother to come inside. His feet felt like lead. Everything felt so cold, so false, so numbing.  
"I assume you know what I have come to tell you?" she asked, her tone just as cool as Antonio's had been before. Antonio merely nodded. "Your father passed a week ago. It is time for you to carry on the family name. Your mother is dependant on your to take care of your sisters. You will have to marry. We have a beautiful girl waiting for you in Spain…"  
The rest of his grandmother's words were drowned out. His father was dead. He had to go back. He knew that this day would come, that this burden was going to be laid upon his shoulders, but he had hoped he had more time, that he had more time for his family to change, to accept him. That had not happened. He had to marry. He had to marry a girl he had never met, that he wasn't in love with. He had to leave. That was the worst of it all. He had to leave when he had the most perfect, beautiful boy in his grasp. Lovino… Antonio would never see him again after this point. He had no choice but to go. He couldn't tell his grandmother no. He had to support his mother and sisters. He had no choice, but why did this choiceless matter have to hurt so much?  
The teenager looked upon his grandmother with teary, green eyes. "When do I have to leave?" he asked softly, his voice cracking. He couldn't cry, he had to be strong. He had to be tough. Lovino wouldn't want him to cry, he'd want him to fight through this.  
"Now, Antonio. Our flight leaves in four hours," she said simply. "Go pack whatever you want to take with you. Elizaveta will send everything else. I want you ready to leave in an hour."  
Antonio nodded, the numbness engulfing him. He crept back to his room, his tanned hands clenched into tight fists. He opened the door silently, slowly, and gazed upon the sleeping form of Lovino. The boy wouldn't be up for another few hours if uninterrupted. And Antonio had no intentions of waking him. The Spaniard swept his room for anything of value: his watch, a few changes of clothes, a photograph of his beloved Italian. He then left, without looking back.  
In the kitchen, he wrote a letter to Lovino, explaining why he had to go, why they'd never meet again, why this hurt so much. He handed it off to Eliza and told her to give it to Lovino. All the while, he felt so numb. Nothing was right. Their lives were supposed to be perfect, they were supposed to be together, but here Antonio was, leaving without saying a simple 'goodbye'.  
Antonio slipped out the front door, letting a single tear fall down his cheek. That tear was his last farewell to his corazon, his heart.

Lovino woke at around nine in the morning. He stretched out his hands to find the bed beside him cold and empty. His eyes opened to see nothing. Antonio was gone. For a moment, Lovino began to panic, but it was short lived. He heard pots and pans clinking in the kitchen. The Spaniard must have been making breakfast. Lovino hoped so; he was starving.  
The Italian threw on a pair of Antonio's sweat pants and left the room. He walked the familiar halls to the kitchen, but was surprised to see Elizaveta in front of the stove. A muffled sound showed that she was crying. Lovino slowly crept towards her, his brow wrinkled.  
"Elizaveta…? Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice still sleepy.  
The girl stiffened upon hearing Lovino's voice. She turned to him, her green eyes puffy and red. She didn't hesitate before throwing her arms around Lovino.  
"I'm sorry…" she whispered, before pulling back. She held out an envelope to him. It was crisps white with a single word at the center. It was his name, _Lovino._  
He didn't ponder why she was apologizing. He simply took the envelope and opened it. He pulled free a hand written letter. Why he felt a bit of dread while sitting down at the island in the center of the kitchen, he did not know. That is until he read the contents.  
"I'm sorry Lovino…" Elizaveta whispered after Lovino had finished. "He's not coming back…"  
Lovino understood. Antonio was gone, gone from his life, from his world, from his heart. He did not cry; he had no more tears to shed for the Spaniard. He simply looked at Elizaveta with a resolute look and nodded.  
From this point onward, the name Antonio Fernandez Carriedo was just a bittersweet memory. It meant nothing.

*Fratello: Italian for brother

((Oh the bittersweet, torturous ending. I wanted to make you upset by this. They had finally reached perfection and now it's crumbling. What will happen next? Will they ever see each other again? Bum bum BUUUUM. Cliffhangers are a bitch, aren't they? Also, I don't enjoy writing sex scenes sometimes and because I've known how this chapter was going to end for like two months, I wanted to get it done. So I skipped at the stuff you guys actually care about, skimped on it really, and went to this. I hope you like it. There is more to come, I promise. Keep on reading and waiting and all that good stuff. Thank you!))


	11. Five Years of Rotting

((**WARNING**: Minor character death))

Five years later...  
It was half past three in the morning. The male had been sleeping - tossing and turning really, but he had been laying down just the same. There was no reason for him to be out of bed. There was no reason for a hot cup of caffeinated coffee - black without sugar - to be resting in his hand. Both were true, though, much to Lovino's dismay. A subordinate, a lower level on the grounds of something so trivial, had woken him. Someone on the streets had been asking for him, pleading for him by name. It wasn't entirely uncommon, no, but it did strike the young man as odd. He was no older than twenty-one; his name shouldn't have been well known on the streets; he hadn't allowed that to happen just yet.  
Here the uncommon situation arose, and here Lovino was, woken from his restless slumber. He had dressed hastily, careful not to wake his sleeping brother that lay just across the room. Feliciano hadn't taken well to their new life, but he was adjusting. This was the first time the short brunette had slept well without Ludwig in weeks. He was not very keen on waking him. Once dressed in a pinstriped suit and black dress shoes, Lovino swept from the room. He had received coffee from yet another nameless subordinate. He sipped on it casually, attempting to rouse and form of sleep from his system. The harsh, yellow lights in the hallway seemed to help. They were nothing like the soft hues that used to be at home.  
Home.  
It was Lovino's first Thanksgiving in college. He had gotten accepted to the local university. It was his first time back since he had left, and he missed his wonderful Grandpa and brother so much. They were around the dinner table, laughing, singing, drinking. It was a merry, happy time.  
That is until the door came barreling down. Heavy boots thundered into the dining room where they sat. Men in black, rough and tough. Lovino saw their gleaming black guns first. He bit back and shriek and dragged Feliciano to the ground just as the first bullets rang out. He heard Roma's strangled cry. His only thought was to get out, to get Feliciano to safety, find the gun in the safe, and call the cops.  
Lovino had never handled a gun before, he had never felt the cool metal in his hands, but upon picking it up, he felt right. He handled the weapon well, shot with such accuracy. He was a natural.  
He was so afraid.  
The cops came, but the assailants were long gone.  
So was Grandpa Roma.  
Dead, killed by a shot straight through the heart.  
Lovino couldn't help but admit it, but he saw more pain in the eyes of Chief Beilschmidt than Lovino felt inside of him. He had lost so much already. This was just one more event to add to the list.  
He had joined it there, the Italian mafia. He stayed in school, but hardly paid attention. He was more focused on getting information, torturing, succeeding... Feliciano was scared, but he had Ludwig every step of the way. The blonde had never wavered, had never left. Lovino on the other hand, was cold and alone in world of the mafia in which he had risen in rank. He was alone in this empty world without color. He was alone in the yellowed halls.  
Yellowed halls. Lovino was focused on reality once more. The lights flickered around him, but he didn't mind. He was used to the eerie feeling this stretch of hall gave him. He was used to the light being out over the door at the end of the hall. The male stalked forward, pausing only to let his subordinate open the door. Lovino stepped through the threshold and waited for the door to close behind him. He heard the lock click in place and glanced back to see that same subordinate guarding the door. Lovino noticed he was armed. He then looked towards the center of the room.  
In a chair sat what seemed to be a male teenager. Lovino gave him a quick once over noticing he was bruised and bleeding in places. His injuries were minor; they weren't anything he'd die from. His black t-shirt was torn in places, probably from a scuffle with his lower levels that had brought him in. His arms and chest, although scratch and cut, we're toned and tanned. The skin that poked out from the tears in his tight jeans was just as tanned. A black bag covered his head, and Lovino assumed he was gagged; he heard only heavy breathing coming from the boy. His arms were tied behind him and his ankles were bound to the legs of the chair. His chest heaved slightly, but his pitiful state did nothing to sway the male.  
Lovino did not recognize the boy.  
He gestured lazily for the bag to be removed from the boy's head. He watched with disinterest as a mop of sweaty, soft curls were exposed. He watched as a set of emerald green eyes squinted against the harsh yellow light. He watched as those green eyes found their intended target and flooded with relief. Lovino watched, his disinterest gone. Here he was, in front of him, that perfect bastard. After five years...  
 _Five years ago._  
He had been waiting for letters; he had been sending his own through Elizaveta like crazy. Lovino thought he could move on, but after a week of not eating, of sitting in his room in a world of too many shades of grey, he cracked. He had written so many times, but not once had he received a response. He had prayed, but it seemed as though God would not fulfill his prayers. He was so cold, so alone... But he had recovered.  
Recovered.  
Lovino was quick to hide the pained, surprised look on his face. It was only present for a moment; no more. He was sure, however, that the perceptive bastard had seen something. Lovino managed to play it off.  
"Why the hell did you bring me a kid?" he asked, his voice tired and irate. He took another sip of his coffee, his brow wrinkled. Lovino became amused by the boy's expression turned wild and confused. He chuckled slightly and leaned back against the wall.  
"He was asking about ya'. Knew ya' specifically by name," said one of his nameless subordinates. "We wasn't sure if he was a threat, so we brought 'im in anyways."  
"Was it that important and necessary to wake me up? Couldn't it have waited? You risked waking Feliciano over a damned teenager?" Lovino spat, his voice full of ice and malice. "Did you at least bring me information on him?"  
Silence. No one spoke. Of course they hadn't thought to collect background before presenting the boy to Lovino. He took a final sip of his coffee before crushing his cup in his hand. He dropped it to the ground and stepped forward, looking down at the curly haired boy.  
"Idioti..." he muttered gently. "Go."  
His hand had whipped towards the door. The few people that were in the room filed out quickly, avoiding Lovino's harsh gaze. The door clicked shut behind them and the Italian returned his gaze to the boy.  
"Who are you?" he asked gently. Lovino slowly removed his blazer and tossed it on a nearby table. He then rolled up his sleeves, exposing his tattooed forearms. When his caramel eyes caught hold of the boy's own once more, he drew closer, allowing his slender fingers to fist the boy's sweaty curls. He tilted his head back and leaned in close. "Oh, I recognize you. You're the one who left, who didn't write or call or give me the time of day to stop my heartache and sadness. I remember you... Antonio."  
The Spaniard's expression fell. It was pained and hurt, but Lovino didn't care. It was time for his pain to be felt. He wanted Antonio to understand the hurt, the despair, the rejection he had endured. Lovino released him, letting his hand fall back gently to his side.  
"Grandpa died, you know, a year after you left. The Russians murdered him. I killed one, but the rest got away. You weren't there. I could hardly mourn. I was already numb, and Grandpa's death just added to it. Feli had Ludwig, but I was alone. I was alone, hurting while you were off marrying some beautiful Spanish girl."  
Lovino was so bitter, so cold, and his resolve was finally cracking. He felt the tears stinging his eyes. He dashed them away with the back of his palm. He would not show weakness. He would be strong.  
"You left me a shell of a person. I haven't spoken to my friends - who am I kidding? I have no friends. Lilly won't even look me in the eye. I can't blame her. Look at me. I'm a monster. But who can I blame if not you? I want to blame you so badly it hurts. I am nothing because of you, and now you have the audacity to come back when I'm finally building myself up. You forced your way into my life. You forced your way out. I should have pushed you away when I had the chance. I was protecting myself, but you came in and wrecked my walls, tore down defenses. I should have been stronger. I shouldn't have let myself get hurt. But what I thought was love blinded me. I felt so fucking good to be loved, and then... I wasn't."  
Antonio merely stared at Lovino, his green eyes full of pain and sorrow. He had the most pitiful of expressions and that single expression left Lovino feeling sort of satisfied. He stepped closer, reaching out to the Spaniard once more. He pulled down the tie that lay tight across his mouth, allowing him to speak. He himself stepped back, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His composure was back after his string of rants. He had trained himself to recover. He had trained himself to be strong. He watched Antonio with that cool expression. His soft brown eyes held no warmth. He watched and waited for some sort of speech from the older male.  
"I had to force myself not to come back to you..." Antonio whispered, his head bowed. "I had to force myself to stay with my mother and sisters. I had to force myself to meet the girl I was to marry. In those five years, I had never felt so trapped, so imprisoned. I got your every letter, but I couldn't bring myself to reply. I knew I'd be stringing you along. It was okay for me to suffer, to read your pains and woes... because I caused them, but you couldn't suffer anymore."  
Lovino could not let his composure crack. He could not start yelling at him. He couldn't tell him how wrong he was. How... "You thought I'd suffer less? Having any sort of connection would have made my world bearable. You were being selfish! You hardly thought of how this would make me feel. You right you were being noble, but that's far from the truth. You hurt me more than I can bear. I don't understand why you came back now! You're married! You ought to have kids by now!"  
Lovino hadn't intended on yelling, ranting, or speaking his mind, but it had all come forth after years of repression.  
"I never married that girl. I told her I was not in love with her. My mother and grandmother may not have liked it, but Natalie understood. She understood love and she didn't want force in a relationship. She called it off," Antonio muttered, keeping a soft tone. He made an attempt to sit up straighter, but the amount of rope that was wound around his body prevented him. He shook his head in defeat, focusing once more on words. "Yes, I may have been selfish, but Lovino, I never stopped loving you. I came back because in the last five years, I have done nothing but think of you. I never allowed myself to fall victim to depression because I knew you wouldn't want that. Seeing you now means the world to me, but I understand if you no longer love me; if you no longer trust me."  
Lovino remained expressionless. He didn't need that bastard reading him through his eyes like he used to. Lovino had perfected masking his emotions in this business of kill or be killed. He hadn't slipped up on a job in over three years. This Spanish bastard was not going to make him do just that. This was a job. This was not a conversation between himself and his former lover. He had already let his emotions run too many times in the last few minutes alone. He needed to keep control. This was an interrogation. Antonio had been brought in for just that. He had been brought to Lovino for two reasons. Antonio had been asking about him for starters. Also, when it came to interrogations and weasel in information out of people, Lovino was the best.  
"Let's cut the shit and do what I was called down here for," Lovino grumbled. "Tell me your full name."  
"Lovino, you know my-" Antonio started.  
"Your name."  
"Antonio Fernandez Carriedo."  
"Why did you come here?"  
"Lovino, you know why I'm here!" Antonio shouted, his facial features growing restless.  
"No, actually, I don't," he said with an indifferent coolness.  
"I came for you, Lovino. I-"  
"Why are you here so suddenly after five years have you come to look for me?"  
"Why do I need a reason?" the Spaniard shouted.  
"Answer the question, Carriedo."  
A look of hurt crossed Antonio's face, but Lovino completely ignored it. He was falling back into his typical routine of interrogator. He was at ease suddenly. Antonio was just another face to add to his list.  
"I won't answer your questions, Lovino. Not when you can't even look me in the eye," Antonio said darkly.  
Lovino stepped towards Antonio and took hold of his sweaty mop of hair once more. He pulled his head back and stood over him with the most careless gaze.  
"I'm calling the shots tonight," he said simply, his amber gaze malicious. "Now tell me. Why did you seek me out so suddenly after five years?"  
"Is it wrong for me to love you?" he shot, his green eyes hardened.  
He was growing defensive like most he had interrogated, but this time... the questions, they were so simple. They had nothing to do with underground politics or betrayal. But this interrogation was so hard. Love, to Lovino, had been the hardest conversation to withstand since that date five years ago. He had pressed through so far, but he could tell Antonio was cracking.  
"Yes, quite frankly, after all the shit you put me through, it is," Lovino stated, looking him dead in the eye.  
"It wasn't my fault!" he yelled.  
"You had the choice to write me, to call, to visit once or twice at least," he said simply. "I would have come to you in an instant."  
"Lovino, I would have come, but-"  
A loud slap rang out and it was clear Lovino had lost his cool. "Don't lie to me, you bastard!"  
Antonio's left cheek was red from where Lovino had slapped him. He didn't look at the Italian. He merely stared off into space. When he slowly turned his head back, Lovino saw tears swimming in his eyes. A gut wrenching feeling hit Lovino in a sickening wave. His amber eyes grew wide as he looked upon the Spaniard. He had just struck Antonio, brought tears to his eyes. This wasn't like all those years ago when he had punched him out of spite and irritation. This time Lovino had meant to cause pain, had meant to hurt him. The feeling that had fallen over him was horrible. The look on Antonio's screwed made him want to cry, want to hold him.  
There was no thought in Lovino's decision. Lovino flung himself around Antonio's, burying his head in the Spaniard's neck.  
"I'm sorry," Lovino whispered, tears stinging his own eyes. "I'm so, so sorry..."  
Antonio was quiet for a moment before Lovino heard the sobs. The Spaniard was crying. His chest heaved with each shuddered breath. Lovino had never heard Antonio cry; he had never seen it. To him, this was entirely new. To him, it made everything that had happened over the last five years completely vanish. It was as if Antonio had never left.  
The Italian held the sobbing male for a few moments longer before he slowly removed the ropes around each of his ankles, his chest, and his wrists. Antonio slumped in the chair, refusing to look at Lovino. His body still shook slightly from an occasional stiff breath, but otherwise he seemed quiet.  
Antonio had never seen Antonio so lost, so broken, and it was his fault; he had pushed him; he had shoved him away. Lovino didn't know what to do. It was so strange to have to care for once. Over the last four years, love had been near non-existent where Feliciano wasn't concerned. But Antonio was back. He had to learn to love again. He didn't know how. He didn't understand how after five years of feeling rejected. His only option was to try.  
"You don't want me here, do you?" Antonio asked, his resolve and will shattered.  
Lovino looked directly at the Spaniard, his amber eyes wavering. "I'm not sure... I don't know what I want. The first year I would have given anything to have you back, but after Grandpa died, I learned life was a bitch, and sometimes you didn't have the chance to exchange goodbyes. I'm not sure whether or not our goodbyes were meant to be permanent..." Lovino whispered, his eyes shifting gradually to the floor. When he looked at Antonio again, the Spaniard was looking up, his green eyes tinged an irritated pink. "I don't want them to be permanent... You are not going to walk out that door and never come back, Antonio. It will not happen. I will learn to love you again. I promise."  
Antonio had a hopeful expression. He slipped from his chair slowly and fell to his knees. He knelt in front of Lovino, his head bowed. He looked so submissive.  
"Toni, what are you doing?" Lovino asked slowly, his voice strained. He couldn't help but feel turned on by the Spaniard's actions. This was his ex. He a shouldn't think of him in a such a way, but he couldn't help it. "Antonio, look at me."  
The male's head shot up and he struck Lovino with a burning stare.  
Oh God, Antonio was doing this... he was offering himself up. Holy hell. Lovino could not comprehend or think. Why was Antonio suddenly like this.  
"What are you doing? I was never... I can't..." he stammered, taking a step back. "I'm not the dominant one!"  
Antonio smirked slightly through his submissive gaze. "No, you never were..." he said softly. "And you still aren't now."  
Antonio claimed the moment as his. While Lovino was off of his guard, he pounced. The Italian lay on his back, his amber eyes wide. Antonio had tackled him in a single graceful move. He now was above Lovino. His muscles showed through the tears in his clothes, and he was dusted in a thin layer of sweat. His curly hair hang in front of his eyes, sticking to his forehead slightly. Antonio's tanned hands pinned Lovino's wrists above him while he sat on his belly.  
"I'd like to recall that this situation is vaguely familiar," the Spaniard whispered in a triumphant tone.  
"You're a bastard," Lovino spat. Antonio had recovered so quickly - too quickly. It irritated the younger of the two far too much. "Quit looking so smug and get off of me."  
"I don't think I will," Antonio said softly. "Sitting in that chair for so long gave me ideas that I'd like to try. Not now, of course, but telling you now would be just as fun."  
"Antonio's voice seemed so mischievous and arousing. Why had it already affected him. Why had it already made him melt? He was supposed to be angry with the bastard. He had left Lovino alone. He was not supposed to want to screw him.  
"What could you possibly think of bound to a chair?" Lovino stammered.  
"That's exactly it. Binding. I'd love to do that to you myself this time," Antonio mumbled against Lovino's ear.  
The Italian gasped slightly and squirmed. The yellow light only managed to illuminate his now flushed cheeks.  
"Why didn't you take advantage of that situation back in that closet?" he asked, keeping a bit of bite to his words.  
"You were drunk and innocent Lovino," he whispered. "You were jailbait then, too. Even if I wanted to, it would have been cruel to take your virginity... but now... I can bind you myself and make you mine."  
Lovino felt a familiar, uncomfortable swelling beneath his belt. He hadn't felt something like that in years. Oh God, why now?  
"Get off of me, you bastard," Lovino hissed. Nothing could happen here in this room. If anyone walked in, they'd kill Antonio immediately. He was on top of Lovino, pinning him. They'd instantly think foul play. "Get off before someone comes in and shoot you"  
The Spaniard watched Lovino warily before slowly climbing to his feet. He held out a hand to Lovino who reluctantly took it. The Italian pulled himself upright, but did not release Antonio's hand. Instead he gripped it tighter and twisted his arm behind his back. Lovino smirked at the ease he had. Antonio was the one caught off guard this time.  
"Don't struggle. This is just for the people waiting outside the door. I'm not going to bother to explain to them that one of the most cold, cool, and collective people of our select group is gay. I'll get so much shit about being incompetent, it is ridiculous," Lovino muttered.  
Since high school, acceptance of gas had become better, but in the Italian mafia, men were tough. They didn't date other men. The had hot girlfriends. They had rough sex and laughed with each other about it. Elizaveta had gladly agreed to be his scapegoat for these conversations. She may not have been the ideal to his friend, but she worked alongside Lovino in the mafia. She helped take care of Feliciano when Ludwig was off on a job. He and Feli were informants for the mafia.  
Now that Lovino thought of it most of the mafia wasn't Italian. There were a few subordinates that were, but most of the higher ups were from other nations. Francis was the top dog. He ran the business, made deals, and planned. If there were problems, people answered to him. Other leaders answered to him. Mathew was in charge of the money. He handled the bank account and the ledgers. Gilbert and Alfred were the muscle along with the very provocative Ludwig - he had that fearsome look about him that made people spill their guts; that was why he was also an informant. Arthur supplied alcohol to the group and made alternative, legal business; there was no surprise there. Roderich was their diplomatic mole. He had gotten a government job that allowed him to get the mafia out of tough situations, allowed him to avoid trouble for them. Feliciano was another informant. No one suspected him because of his blatant innocence. Vash Zwingli was another interesting piece to the puzzle. Lilly's older brother had become the assassin. He was short, yes, but his shot was damn near amazing. He was stealthy. Lovino had become Francis's right hand man. He was an interrogator, an infiltrator, and occasionally he stooped to kidnap and torture; that was only when it was entirely necessary.  
Now that Lovino thought of it, pretty much everyone that was important and essential was gay. Francis, like the bastard that he was, flounced it openly; he didn't care who knew about his sexuality. Everyone else hid it easily and gladly. Why, he didn't entirely understand. It could have been to remain professional in the workplace, or it could have been to keep the trust of the employees. There was really no definite answer without asking them personally. He knew, however, why these people had joined him in his fight against the Russians.  
Ivan Braginski had taken everything. Francis had lost more money than he wished to count. Mathew lost a stuffed bear named Kumajiro. Roderich had nearly lost his job and much of his dignity because of a supposed rape scandal. Alfred lost one of the biggest poker games of his existence; he was stuck with a few broken bones after the fight that followed his defeat. Arthur had a shipment of expensive, legal alcohol stolen from his ship at the local seaport. The Beilschmidts, like the Vargases, had lost their grandfather to the Russian's goons. Vash, however, had the worst of it all. He lost something - someone - that he and Lovino desperately wished to get back. They feared they never would.  
Lilly.  
Ivan had tainted her mind, turned her against them. Lilly hadn't looked Lovino in the eyes in years. It wasn't because of who he had become, who he had turned out to be after Roma died. It was because she had befriended the Russian. He had said something to her, done something to turn her. That was a goal in this little legion of banded nations. Get the young, sixteen-year-old girl away from the monster's influence. The other goal was to bring down the Russian mafia. Ivan, too, had recruited a decent army of foreigners over the years. The boys from the Baltic States, Raivis, Toris, and Eduard were under their mother's influence for sure. Raivis was an amazing public speaker while Toris had become a leading researcher that was able to get dirt on anybody. Eduard was a top notch, world-class hacker. And then there was the blonde pole, Feliks. He was just a tad of a ditz. He had no place working with the Russian aside from his protection. He was a convenient tool to them, though. He got coffee and food while other were too lazy to go out. Finally, there was Yao Wang, a Chinese man with long black hair and skill that could kill. He seemed tired, but Lovino could assume he was. He had been a part of the Chinese black market for years. He was also the lover of Ivan. How that man had survived, Lovino did not know.  
Honestly, Lovino did not know a lot of things. He had been saying just that to Francis and Gilbert just days earlier. He was drunk, which wasn't surprising. Lovino liked to drink at this time of year. It was May. It was when he had his yearly relapse. He had told them bother that he was unsure with life, with going on. They must have thought he was going to attempt to kill himself yet again, but then again, they had heard that conversation time and time again over the last three years since he had joined the mafia. That night he had said something over not believing in love, which in Francis's book, was a huge no no. He had said that if Antonio loved him, he would have come to him, looking as if he face a war. There had to be some pretty tough shit keeping them apart, he had said. He had wanted Antonio to come back ready to beg for forgiveness, to explain what the hell he thought he was doing.  
And he had gotten just that.  
"Those sly fucking bastards," Lovino muttered, taking hold of Antonio's other wrist. He picked up a roll of duct tape from the table at the center of the room and started wrapping it around his hands. He had cuffs in his pocket but he was currently too mentally preoccupied to care. "They called and asked for you to come, didn't they?"  
Antonio looked back at him, his face flushed slightly. "Guilty. They pretty much demanded for me to come. They were pretty convincing."  
Lovino blinked in disbelief before he exploded. "You came when they told you to, but I write you hundreds of letters to tell you to come back, and you ignore me?" Lovino shouted, pushing Antonio on the back. The male stumbled slightly, but did not fall. He tossed the duct tape down in a fit of rage; he had already bound Antonio's hands entirely. "You complete ass, Antonio Carriedo! God, I couldn't remember how much you pissed me off, but it's all rushing back!"  
"I seem to remember you melting for me several times. Even a few moments ago you seemed to be writhing," he mumbled.  
Lovino ripped off one of his shoes and chucked it at the Spaniard. He was unable to block, so the black leather shoe hit him square on the chest. "You're a bastard! A mother-fucking bastard! What makes you think I want you back _now_? What the fuck!"  
"Well, Gil and Francis did send me an interesting video when you were drunk. And then there was the heart-warming instance only a few moments ago. Throwing shoes in rage is also an embarrassed yet good sign."  
"Oh, hell no! Those mother fucking bastards recorded me when I was drunk?" he roared. "Why the hell would _that_ make you want to come back?"  
"I had to protect you! They threatened to have Heracles come over to seduce you," he whined. "Now, Lovi-"  
"Lovino."  
" _Lovino._ Don't get me wrong, I didn't think you'd do it, but Heracles... he may be head over heels for Kiku and a total stoner, but he would never miss the opportunity to get back at me for walking in and ruining their first time having sex junior year..."  
"You came because you thought I'd bang your old friend from high school?" he screamed.  
"What can I say? I'm territorial."  
" _Territorial?_ Don't get me started on territorial..." he warned. "I'm going to kill those two bastards.  
Lovino strode for the door and turned the cool metal handle in his hand. The door opened inward and what was on standing on the other side only fueled his rage. Gilbert and Francis had been standing there, listening to the two of them talk. They were eavesdropping. He should have expected as much. Lovino grabbed them both by the ears and dragged them into the room with a surprising force. They whimpered, whined, and cursed, but the Italian did not relinquish his hold until the door was shut.  
"You two... I may just fucking murder you!" he yelled, ripping off another one of his shoes. He chucked it at Francis, but he managed to block it with his arms. "You woke me up in the middle of the night, you beat the living shit out of Antonio before I could, and you threatened to have Heracles fuck me! Are you fucking insane?"  
"Well, at first, we weren't insane..." Francis muttered. "We never intended for you to find out about that little threat, thank you Antonio."  
"So you're fucking insane! Francis, I was hired by you to interrogate, to dig out information. You are a complete dunce for thinking you could hide the fact that you stole my stash of chocolates let alone hide any information from me."  
Francis cursed under his breath, scratching the back of his head. "Mon amie, don't think about that right now. You have Antonio back finally. Also, for the record, I did not eat your chocolate. I merely swiped it from your room. Gilbert ate them."  
Gilbert was quick to punch Francis. "Hey, he's more mad at you for once. You leave the fuck out of this, bitch."  
Lovino rolled his eyes and grabbed Antonio by the collar of his shirt. "Let's go. I'm don't with these two. Francis, Gilbert, you bother me at all for the rest of the night, I will not hesitate to stab you. I am deadly serious." Before leaving, the Italian held their gaze in his own. He had every intention to scare the daylights out of them, and by the look of Francis's wide eyes, he had succeeded.  
Lovino did not lead Antonio back to the room he shared with Feliciano. Instead, he led him to his office. They passed a few men speaking rapid Italian, but Lovino ignored them. He heard them mention Antonio, a prisoner, lamely before they moved onto a game that had happened the night before. Lovino so his head. They could say what they wanted for now, but soon rules would be set. There was no doubt about that. Lovino was also very damn sure that he'd have to come out of the closet because of the bastard. That wouldn't matter so long as he didn't leave again.  
Once outside of his office, Lovino opened the door with a key that only he had. He flipped on the dull, yellow lights and pushed Antonio inside. All he wanted was to get back to bed, but with the state that this bastard was in, that was impossible. First he had to deal with the wounds that littered his body. Francis, Gilbert, and their goons had done quite a number on him. Wherever there was a rip in his clothing, a cut had been made. There was a gash on his cheek, and bruises covered a good amount of his bare arms.  
Lovino clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "How the hell did they manage to do this to you?" he asked, a tone of disbelief in his voice.  
"Well, I was walking home from the airport towards your house, cause I figured you'd be there. I got no more than a mile from the airport when they jumped me. Gil got me square in the balls… I'll be blue there, and I swear if I am, I'll kill the kraut," Antonio muttered bitterly. "How could I think that they'd let me off so easily? I left them, too, you know. They were pissed. Francis came to Spain, pounding on my door, but Abuela sent him away, saying I was with my 'lady friend' as she called her."  
Lovino snorted slightly. Of course they'd jump him. Lovino would have, too, if he had seen the curly haired bastard sauntering down the street. The Italian shook his head and led Antonio through his office towards his little bathroom. Because he had pulled some strings with Francis, he had gotten one of the better offices all to himself. He rarely came in here other than to seek solitude. He had spent quite a few hours in here, cooling down after a particularly gruesome interrogation. He didn't want to think of that now, though.  
"Strip down. We need to get you washed up…" he muttered.  
The Spaniard offered Lovino his taped hands after a moment of awkward silence. He had forgotten entirely to remove the crudely wrapped bindings. Lovino pulled a knife from his pocket and sliced the grey substance, careful not to hurt the man in front of him. Antonio pulled his torn shirt from his frame to reveal his toned and bruised back. He was littered with them, but they weren't nearly as bad as Lovino had been during his sophomore year. He had minor bruises that didn't seem to affect his at all. The cuts were what Lovino was worried about.  
From his medicine cabinet, he pulled a bottle of rubbing alcohol, Neosporin, gauze, medical tape; he kept these things for the occasions he found himself beaten and bruised. He set them down on the back of the toilet.  
"You might as well shower," he said simply. "But don't take two years. I want to go back to bed."  
The Spaniard said nothing. He seemed just as tired as Lovino felt. The night had been full of rushes, but the adrenaline had long since passed. Lovino left the room to allow Antonio to shower. He had no intentions of watching him undress further. He feared if that happened, they'd never get past turning on the water. Lovino instead went and grabbed a bottle of wine from the little fridge that was behind his desk. He took a single wine glass from the top of the fridge and filled it halfway. He needed the alcohol in his system at this point He was still trying to grasp the fact that his once beloved bastard was back. Before he knew it, his glass was nearly empty. He could have sworn that it had only been a moment. He did not refill it. He did not want his better judgment to be clouded.  
The water shut off in the bathroom and Lovino reentered. Antonio had already stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist. He had shaken out his hair so that his curls had started to form rather than plaster themselves against his head. He looked like a dream; this, however, was no dream.  
"C'mere… Let's get your wounds dressed…" Lovino muttered, picking up the rubbing alcohol.  
He was quick about dressing the Spaniard's wounds. He was used to doing this. He had become a nurse to Feli and Ludwig on the occasions that they had come home banged up. He poured the rubbing alcohol over the tanned skin of his arm and wiped the excess away with a towel. He felt Antnio flinch, but the male did not say a word. He took the pain with ease. He then spread on the warm Neosporin with his fingertips. He bandaged it up with that same ease he had had before. He didn't hesitate to admire Antonio before he dressed his other woulds. He was far too tired. He also did not want to see the man's bare skin any more than he had to. Once Antonio was all patched up, he brought him back into the main part of the office.  
"You can stay in here for tonight, Antonio. No one has a key aside from me, so you won't be disturbed. Sleep on the couch over there," he said, pointing lamely at the futon in the corner. He walked slowly towards the door, rubbing his eyes. "Goodnight."  
"Lovino, wait," Antonio called just as he reached for the doorknob. The Italian looked back at him with his tired amber eyes. "Stay with me tonight."  
It wasn't a question; it was a demand. He hesitated, watching for a moment. Should he stay and give into their selfish demands or should he go and spend his night alone. Lovino pursed his lips and reluctantly nodded. He didn't admit to himself that he had been silently hoping Antonio would as him.  
"I don't sleep with clothes on anymore. Just letting you know," Lovino muttered, removing his dress shirt. Next went the white tank top and dress pants. He removed his socks and them his boxers before shutting off the lights. He climbed onto the futon, and Antonio lay down right behind him.  
Antonio was warm, comforting. It felt like home. It had been so long since he had had that comfort. In that moment, for the first time in five years as dawn crept up on them, he slept well. He was merely wrapped in the arms of an infuriating bastard, snuggled beneath a warm blanket. The world may have been shit around Lovino and he may have lost friends and family, but having Antonio back brought light. His world was slowly rebuilding all because he had allowed himself to love once again.

((HOLY FUCK. I enjoyed writing that chapter. I felt as though I was making Lovino a pitiful little shit, so turning him into a bad ass Mafia guy… That made me want to binge write. I have been pulling out sheets of paper during my classes, writing in my curly handwriting and my lucky black pen. I think I went through ten to fifteen sheets in all. I got this chapter done way faster. I had it planned out, though. The next chapter I have NO IDEA. PROVIDE SOME PLEASE. Otherwise it will be another five weeks to three months before I post again. Thank you for reading and all that jazz. Thank yaa :'D Have a great day and comment. Byee~))


	12. Don't Cry Over Spilt

Afternoon light was cruel. The way the sun was angled in the sky made for the worst glares. The light that shone through the windows was blinding, especially when it fell down upon closed eyes. Lovino hadn't thought to shut the blinds the night previous. He hadn't slept on the futon in his office in so long, the idea hadn't occurred to him. He had only thought of sleep. He was too focused on the Spaniard that lay down right beside him.  
This was the first time Lovino had woken with ease beside him. The first time, he had been rudely awoken and pinned to the floor by a very aroused version of his former boyfriend. The second time he had been alone. This waking moment was calm, just as his desired. He had drifted into consciousness slowly, warm but not sweaty, drowsy but not groggy. He smiled softly to himself and turned his body to face Antonio. His cheek was covered by a while bandage that had little dots of blood seeping through. His eyes were closed in a light peaceful sort of way. His chest rose and fell slowly and melodiously. He was in a deep sleep that Lovino did not want to wake him from. This moment was too peaceful to end so soon.  
The Spaniard woke an eternity later. Lovino had been drifting in and out of sleep, too drowsy to notice the set of green eyes watching him. When he finally managed to come around to see that set of eyes, Lovino snuggled closer. A smile formed on Antonio's lips. It was a gentle, gorgeous smile that warmed Lovino from the inside out.  
"Good morning," Antonio said softly, snuggling in closer to Lovino.  
"Morning," Lovino whispered, blinking once or twice to clear any lingering sleep from his eyes.  
"Can we sit here all day?" he asked gently.  
Lovino raised a single brow and checked the time on his iPhone. "It's two in the afternoon. I have work to do. No. As much as I would love to, we cannot stay here all day."  
A pout formed on Antonio's lips and he opened his mouth to protest. Lovino shot him a look as if to quiet him. Instead the Spaniard smoothly transformed his complaint into a question. "What do you even do?"  
"Exactly what I said last night. I interrogate to get information. Sometimes it gets rough, but I try not to let it..." he said softly, bitterly.  
"Oh..." Antonio mumbled. "You've changed a lot, Lovi..." He paused and smiled. "I'm sorry; Lovino."  
The Italian closed his eyes and shook his head. "I know I have, and I've come to blame the Russian. He killed Grandpa for reasons, after four long years, I still don't understand. I became bitter after you left, but Grandpa's death really set me off. They killed Chief Beilschmidt, too. Shot him inside of the local grocery store. If I hadn't seen it for myself, I would have called it a coincidence. Wang killed him for sure. I have no doubt in my mind it was him, with that long black hair. I want him dead, Antonio. I want the Russians dead. I want them to pay for Feliciano's tears; he shed too many for Grandpa and Aldrich. They will pay, and I will make sure of it."  
Antonio's held an expression that was unreadable, and Lovino worried that he had said something horrible wrong. After a few moments, however, he spoke.  
"I don't blame you, necessarily, Lovino," he spoke. Antonio looked as if he were struggling to find the right words; it was odd for the man that usually held the answers. "I just worry that you will lose yourself. When I found you, you were a sad lost puppy. That puppy has grown up into a full-grown hound. I knew you couldn't remain blissfully innocent forever, but you can't allow yourself to turn rabid. Don't go down a one-way road you'll never recover from. Don't take a nosedive down to Hell because you are so keen on revenge."  
Lovino batted his eyelids and nodded. Antonio truly cared which meant a lot for him. He understood what he was trying to prevent entirely, but he had no intentions of following the advice that was provided to him. Lovino was going to get his revenge no matter what the cost. If that meant falling into a pit of no return, he'd do it.  
The Italian climbed out of bed slowly, and headed towards the bathroom. He held no shame in walking around nude. He had done it many times before, so what made this time different? Why should his short but muscular and toned body fluster him? He slipped into the bathroom, flipped on the lights and turned on the hot water. He stepped under the showerhead and let the liquid pour over him. The water was icy at first; it washed away any sleep that still clogged his mind. It gradually turned into a blistering head that felt amazing on his skin. He stood under the water, his brown eyes closed.  
Lovino felt relaxed.  
Showers allowed him to think, to reminisce. He seemed to always dread them, but today he craved it. It had been years since he had taken his time in the shower, taken his time in anything he had done during his sophomore year in high school. Everything he did reminded him of Antonio. Showers invoked memories of New Year's; that morning they had spent together under the showerhead. It was glued to his memory each time he had let the water fall upon him. He no longer had that memory lingering over his head. Antonio was right outside, waiting for him. There were many times over the years he had dreamt of Antonio, laying next to him, only to find when he woke that the bed beside him was cold and empty. He had given into that warmth as soon as it was available to him again.  
Antonio had never truly left his mind. He always wondered where he was, what he was doing, how he had been. The questions, of course always remained unanswered. He lived each day the best he could, though. By the look of Antonio, he had kept in shape. He had eaten. He didn't throw himself into a depression. Lovino was glad he had done exactly the same. Each day, when he was sure the pain could get no worse - although it had managed to later - he kept his head high. He hadn't let himself fall towards anorexia or bulimia or any other eating disorder. He hadn't cut or maimed or injured himself. He remained normal.  
Having Antonio back now was going to be both a blessing and a curse for Lovino. He had him back, the only person he had ever loved. Also, if Feliciano wasn't enough, he had another person to look out for. He was sure Antonio knew how to fire a gun after five years of training to be a man in Spain. Hell, Feliciano had a crack shot when he was unflustered and concentrated. Lovino could manage anywhere at anytime. It wasn't him he was worried about in a bad situation. Feliciano could handle himself so long as no one was hurt and no one was at risk of getting hurt. Antonio... Lovino had never seen him under that sort of stress. In Lovino's position, Antonio could only get hurt, or even worse, killed. Lovino worried that he'd never be able to protect him. He was the only man Lovino had ever loved, and he was afraid of being unable to save him...  
It was his biggest, most surreal fear.  
This wasn't a game. He wasn't sixteen anymore. A relationship with Antonio could either make life worth living or destroy everything he had worked for. If Antonio was a lousy shot and Lovino couldn't protect him, he'd be dead. He could never risk that.  
He sat under the showerhead, the water blinding him as it poured down over his eyes. He couldn't continue to beat himself up and destroy himself. It would be torture. That situation would never happen. He would never let Antonio go on any sort of job with or without him. He didn't need to worry. Lovino felt for the handles to turn off the showerhead and stood still for a moment while water ran down his nude frame. He had washed away his drowsiness and replaced it with so many emotions he did not want running through his skull. A sigh escaped his lips and he grabbed a fresh towel from the linen rack and wrapped it around his waist.  
Lovino left the bathroom, a yawn stretching across his lips. Antonio was still in bed, playing on Lovino's smart phone. How he had gotten it, Lovino did not know. How he had gotten through his passcode was also a mystery. The Spaniard did not look up at him. He merely kept playing whatever game he had up. Was it Angry Birds? Lovino could have sworn he deleted it when the binge down three years ago.  
"How the hell did you get on my phone?" Lovino asked curiously, his tone accusing.  
"Lovino, your passcode was simple. 5684. Lovi in numbers," he said with boredom. "You never changed it."  
"So..." he mumbled, his eyes averting. "Old habits die hard, okay?"  
"I can tell. You still don't dry out your hair after you shower, and you don't bring clothes with you, either."  
"Why don't you analyze my entire life while you're at it," he retorted, self consciously brushing back his sopping hair. "Besides, it's my office. I do what I want."  
"Of course you do, Lovino, of course you do..." Antonio muttered, shooting a little pig across the screen. He was entirely distracted.  
Lovino dried down his body with his back to Antonio before pulling on his wrinkled black dress pants. He didn't bother to pull on his boxers from the day previous. He left his dress shirt in a head with the rest of his clothes. He didn't need shoes, socks, and a shirt. He was used to walking around without them.  
"Get some pants on, Antonio. We need to get going. I have a job to do tonight," he stated, snatching back his phone. He started towards the door, leaving his discarded clothes behind; he could clean later. He waited patiently while Antonio dressed. He didn't mind too terribly watching him. He was toned, tanned, and in shape, much like Lovino had become. Months of working out to rid him of anger had helped immensely. Neither of them had let themselves go. He couldn't get past the bruising and scratches though. He'd have to murder two thirds of the Bad-Touch Trio when he had the chance. Antonio did not need the lacerations on his skin, on his perfect form.  
Antonio slipped on his converse and followed Lovino out of the door. He seemed rather tense walking behind Lovino. The Italian assumed it was because of all of the glares he was receiving from various members of the mafia. He wouldn't have been surprised either. He and Antonio had just exited his office. Neither of them were wearing shirts, and Antonio had a head of 'just been fucked' hair. Lovino guessed that was exactly what they were thinking, that Lovino had banged Antonio and cheated on Elizaveta.  
Lovino brought Antonio to his bedroom to avoid the glares and to find some clothes. Antonio was taller than Lovino, but Ludwig had to have something clean in Feliciano's closet... And much to Lovino's chagrin, his brother and his German boyfriend were in the room lips locked and fingers entwined in hair. It was not a welcome sight. This was his little brother... his Fratello. Why the hell they were sucking face in their shared bedroom?  
"Ludwig, I'm damned sure you have your own room, so why are you sitting in mine swapping spit with Feliciano? You're taking advantage of him in my room? Go try your German dungeon porn somewhere else," he stated, his hands on his hips. "Yes, I know you're embarrassed, just give me something for this fuck to wear." Lovino grabbed Antonio by the scruff of the neck and pushed him into his bedroom. "Gilbert and Francis beat the shit out of him before dropping him on my lap. Where his shit he brought back from Spain went, I have no clue. Francis has it most likely, the fuck."  
Ludwig and Feliciano stared at Antonio for a moment. Antonio grinned sheepishly, and Feliciano's embarrassed and startled look turned into a smile. He stood and threw his arms around Antonio, enclosing him into a death grip.  
"Antonio! You're back! You can't leave again! You have to promise me. Lovino was so sad and bitter and he wouldn't even eat the pasta I made to cheer him up. So you can't leave again. If you do, I will personally hunt you down and have Ludwig beat the crap out of you. But don't think about that now. I just need you to be happy and to love each other."  
Lovino stared at Feliciano for a moment before shaking his head. "Ludwig, do you at least have a shirt for him? He's too pudgy for my clothes, and I don't want him stretching anything out beyond repair."  
"I am not pudgy."  
"Shut up."  
Ludwig shot them both an exasperated look and muttered something about an old married couple under his breath before turning to the closet. He fished out one of his old t-shirts from Feli's closet - Lovino made note to move out of the shared room later seeing as how Ludwig was already moving in. The German tossed the shirt to Antonio. He put it on immediately as if to cover his so-called pudginess. He then looked down. Lovino eyes followed his. Why the image printed on the fabric didn't surprise him was no mystery. It was a potato. German potato bastards. Go figure.  
"You two go suck face somewhere else..." Lovino muttered, pushing his brother and the blond from the room. He shut the door behind them and stalked towards his own closet. He needed something comfortable. He was sick of being so damned formal.  
Lovino pulled out a pair of blue jeans, a purple t-shirt, and a pair of vans. It had been a while since he had decided to dress so casually. He was starting to feel like a teenager again. He walked to his dresser and pulled out a pair of fresh boxers. He dropped his dress pants to the floor and they fell easily. Lovino stepped out of them, pulling his boxers on with a sort of ease and grace. He then pulled on his jeans. They fit snugly just below his hips. They didn't sag in a trashy way. Lovino could almost call himself sexy. Almost. He brushed back his hair as if he were slicking it back with gel. Like always, it split down the middle, falling into wet waves. That same curl that never seemed to lie flat stood up like it always seemed to.  
Lovino lifted his shirt as if to put it on when he was interrupted by a set of strong arms circling around his waist. Antonio's chest felt warm against his back. He smiled gently. "Toni..." he drawled "You can't do this right now, right here... I just kicked Feli out because _he_ was screwing around. I'm not a hypocrite.  
Antonio giggled softly. "I'm sure you know the ins and outs of this place. So why don't you find a better place?" he whispered suggestively, waggling his eyebrows up and down. "Come on Lovino, I know you miss it as much as I do."  
Lovino's face went from pale to crimson in a heartbeat. His emotions went from zero to a eighty in that same instant. Why was this bastard the one person that could make him tick, make his emotions go on the overload. Lovino turned to face him and wrapped his arms around his neck.  
"The only places are here, my office, and the storage closet across the building where everyone from high school likes to screw around. I'm pretty sure it's got a fireplace, a chest of wine, and olive oil somewhere. Maybe a bed..." he muttered absently, his gaze averted. He then looked up towards Antonio's mischievous green eyes. "No! No, I'm not telling you where it is, you bastard!"  
Antonio put on a false pout. "But Lovino..." he murmured into the Italian's ear. "There's things I want to see and try."  
Lovino's cheeks burned brighter, and his hid his face in the crook of Antonio's chest. "You're an embarrassing fuck, you know that?"  
Antonio nodded, a playful smile plastered to his lips. "I take pride in making you blush, smile, and laugh," he stated, tilting Lovino's head upward towards him. "So don't hide your face from me, never hide your eyes."  
Lovino wrinkled his nose and pushed Antonio away. He needed to retreat from his probing, insistent gaze. If he stared too long, he was sure he'd fall victim and do whatever that gaze wanted.  
"You're lucky I'm not holding a fucking grudge, bastard," he spat, tugging his purple shirt over his head. He slipped on his vans with little difficulty and grabbed the Spaniard's hand.  
He was out of his damned mind. Why was he giving in so easily? Why was he allowing Antonio to persuade him into going to a closet that was used by the sex-crazed fools of the mafia? Honestly, now that Lovino thought about it, the set up inside was probably put up by the naïve Feliciano. It sounded to Lovino like his brother's idea for a romantic night. The room was nestled in the far corner of the building on the second floor. Feliciano had probably hoped no one would find it, and he and Ludwig would have paradise whenever they wished. He hoped to God they weren't there now.  
By the time they were halfway to the closet, Lovino started to feel his erections growing. Why was he getting so turned on by this? Lovino could change in front of him and sleep with him baked, but the mere thought of sex drove his emotions and hormones wild. The bastard couldn't do this - well, he could, but he shouldn't. He was fucking giggling, too! He was far too amused by how flustered Lovino had become over the course of a few minutes.  
They reached the door, and much to Lovino's mental chagrin and physical pleasure, the door was unlocked. Antonio took the initiative and turned the handle. A wave of relief passed over Lovino; the room was empty. Antonio nudged him gently and he stepped in, the door shutting behind them. The rumors were true, he learned after only a few moments of observation. Nestled in the back of the small room was a fireplace, a rack of French wine - he assumed it was Francis's doing, - and a bottle of olive oil. On the floor, there was even a mattress, pillows and a pile of folded, clean blankets stacked on top. Whomever had been in there last had cleaned up after themselves.  
Antonio came up behind Lovino and wrapped his arms around him once more. "I have you all to myself," he murmured, slipping his fingers down the front of his jeans.  
Lovino bit down on his lower lip. "What are you doing Antonio?" he asked softly, leaning against the older male.  
"I think you need a physical examination, Lovino. When was the last time you were at the doctor?" he asked playfully, ignoring Lovino's question.  
The Italian sucked in a breath. "It's been a while..."  
"Antonio clicked his tongue and pulled his hand away from his waistband. "We're going to have to fix that..." Antonio scooped Lovino from his feet and threw him over his shoulder.  
Lovino bit back a surprised shriek. "Antonio! Put me down! There is no way this is professional!"  
A slap rang out and Lovino fell silent. Oh, holy hell. Antonio had smacked his ass. What the hell? Lovino opened his mouth to speak and closed it. He opened it again, but he found that he could not form any words. His erection grew against Antonio's shoulder and he assumed that Antonio understood what was going through his head.  
"I don't need to be professional, Lovino," Antonio said simply. He had crossed the room already and was standing at the end of the bed. He tossed Lovino down. He expected to have a rough landing but the mattress was thick and soft. He looked up at Antonio who stood over him. "Shall we get this show on the road?"  
Lovino nodded gently, and Antonio straddled his sides with his knees. His tanned hands reached for the button on his pants and popped it slowly. Lovino sucked in a tight breath. Antonio was moving at an agonizingly slow rate like he always seemed to. Lovino already craved his touch. He craved it so badly it hurt. He _needed_ Antonio to touch him. His heart was pounding and the flesh between his legs was throbbing. At twenty-one years old, he was girlishly falling apart by Antonio's miniscule touch. He heard the zipper of his jeans slowly open. He leaned his damp head back and closed his eyes. Antonio slid his jeans past his rear and down his thighs. He glanced downward just as Lovino opened his amber eyes.  
"Hmm... You have an erection for your physician, huh, Mr. Vargas?" Antonio asked, taking a tone of authority. He took hold of Lovino's waistband and pulled his boxers down his legs, releasing his nearly erect length. Lovino immediately began to squirm. "Mr. Vargas, if you can't keep still, I will find a way to restrain you. Knowing what Gilbert enjoys in bed, I'm sure I can find something."  
Lovino tense slightly, but stilled. He had to relax. This was nothing new. He had had sex with Antonio before. Just not recently. Not in five years. He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. Antonio let his fingers explore Lovino's length, a sly grin on his face. God, Lovino needed to move, to kiss that grin from his lips. He knew, however, what that would result in. He wasn't sure he could handle that feeling of restraint. He wrinkled his nose and sucked in a breath.  
"You're as bastard, you know that?" Lovino asked, closing his eyes. He was lost in Antonio's soft touch already. He craved more.  
"Such language, Mr. Vargas," he chastised. The Spaniard sealed Lovino's lips with a kiss that only moments before Lovino had wanted. Now that he had it, there was no way he was focusing on anything but. The younger male didn't notice that Antonio had undone his jeans or that he had removed his own member from its confines. He was too engrossed in his own pleasure, in the warm kiss they were sharing. Antonio pulled his soft lips away just as Lovino opened his eyes. "Oh, Lovi... the things I want to do with you..."  
Lovino involuntarily squirmed at Antonio's softly spoken words. It was in that moment that he forgot to yell for the use of his nickname. He no longer cared. "Go ahead..." he whispered, attempting to remain still. He wanted so badly to pull Antonio to him, to kiss him and demand sweet, hot love from him, but he had to be still. He couldn't risk losing that ability to touch the Spaniard whilst they were in the room. He knew the bonds would be intoxicating and arousing, but they'd prevent him from letting his fingertips graze that perfectly tanned skin. He wouldn't lose that freedom.  
Antonio pressed closer to the young Italian, and that's when he felt it. Lovino could feel Antonio's erection against his own. He wanted him so badly. God it hurt. He sat up quickly, wrapping his arms around the Spaniard's neck.  
"Take me... take me now dammit," Lovino growled.  
Antonio didn't need any more pushing. He seemed just as deprived and anxious as Lovino felt. Antonio lifted Lovino slightly, positioning himself. He was quick and Lovino felt little pain from his entry. A soft moan escaped the Italian's lips, and he pulled himself closer. His hips were pressed firmly against Antonio's. He was able to tell when the Spaniard began to move, in and out, in and out. By the time both came, they were in a sweaty, hot heap.

They laid there for a long while. There were no windows in the revamped closet. Lovino's phone was off somewhere, probably with the rest of their clothes. He didn't know the time and he didn't want to. With nightfall came the inevitable job. With nightfall he'd have to leave Antonio's warm hold. A blanket covered the two from the waist up. Lovino's damp head lay against the older man's chest and his arm lay across it. He listened and felt as it rose and fell with his every breath. He was enveloped by a sense of security just being there.  
Lovino let his amber eyes flutter upwards. He managed to peek at Antonio's face through his long dark lashes. The Spaniard was resting and his eyes were closed. He seemed so serene. There was no longer a welt from where he had slapped him the night before. There weren't any scratches from Gilbert and Francis's beating. He was older and his cheeks were spattered with a bit of stubble, but Antonio looked the same as he did in high school. He still had that strong look about him.  
Lovino knew he was weak to accept Antonio back into his life so easily, but it was hard not to. He had longed for him for years. He had wanted and craved his touch. He obviously had it back, Lovino noted. The Italian had the one person he cared about back, and he wasn't letting go. Of course he had trust issues with Antonio, but he'd work through them. And Lovino was going to be damned sure the bastard worked his ass off to regain that trust.  
Antonio's green eyes fluttered open and he looked down at the Italian. Lovino made no reaction; he was trying so desperately to hold back his smile. He managed to succeed, but he was thrown off guard by Antonio's query.  
"When did you get all of these tattoos?" he asked.  
"Oh. When I turned eighteen three years ago," Lovino replied.  
"You got full black sleeves on your arms at eighteen. How the hell could you afford that?"  
"I had a job at the local pizza place. I've been told I make some kick ass pasta."  
"Remind me to try that next time you cook me dinner."  
"Bastard, who said I'd cook for you?"  
"Hmm, I did and I always get my way."  
"Bull shit you do."  
"So what do so if these mean? Are some of them in Latin?" Antonio let his eyes fall back upon the black tattoos on Lovino's arms.  
"Some are bible verses, others are famous quotes. There are a couple of symbols. I didn't want to have a lot of common things. I wanted things that mattered. There's things that have meaning to me," he said. Lovino sat up and held out his right arm. He traced up his forearm until he got to the crook of his elbow. There he let his fingertip rest. "Despite everything that happened, and after a night of intense drinking, I got this."

L.V. A.C.

"To tell you the God honest truth," Lovino said. "I have never regretted those five tiny characters."  
"You are so strong and romantic," Antonio said. A smile lay up on his lips and he sat up. He wrapped his arms around Lovino's neck. "What the hell have you done with my sad, grumpy little Lovi?"  
A smirk fell upon the Italian's lips. "Sent him to the real world to become a man that knows what he's doing."  
"I think I like this new Lovino." The Spaniard leaned in and kissed Lovino deeply.  
Lovino felt Antonio's fingers fist into his water and sweat dampened locks. It only managed to fuel his passion. He knew damned well that neither of them was leaving anytime soon.  
And that's when the door opened.  
Lovino and Antonio split immediately, but they managed to remain covered by the blanket. Their wild eyes were locked on the door.  
"Alfred, hurry up. I want- BOLLOCKS! You WANKER, you said nobody would be in here!" Arthur yelled.  
"And I thought there wouldn't be. Don't start yelling Artie!" Alfred said.  
"You made me walk in on poor Lovino and Antonio. BOLLOCKS! Uh. Hello Antonio, it's been a while."  
"Artie! Leave them alone!" Alfred reprimanded. "Seriously, nice to see you again Toni, but we should, uh, probably go. Come one, you damned drunk!"  
"You bloody fucking WANKER! I am not a DRUNK!" The door shut quickly, but Lovino and Antonio could still hear the yelling from outside. "BOLLOCKS! Alfred I fell over!"  
"See, you are drunk!"  
"It's my BLOODY VERTIGO, and if you call me drunk again, I will put my foot in your ARSE! You are BLOODY irritating, you damn YANK!"  
Lovino stared at Antonio, his face crimson. "You bastard. You forgot to lock the door, didn't you?"  
The Spaniard scratched the back of his head. "Hey, yeah. My bad, Lovi..."  
And that was their cue to leave.

Lovino was once again in a suit. This one was navy with white pinstripes; Lovino loved his pinstripes. He wore a white shirt, a royal blue bowtie, and suspenders beneath his jacket. His hair was slicked back slightly in a messy sort of way. To top it off, he wore a pair of dark brown oxfords. He was probably dressed the least professionally out of the entire group, and he probably looked the most dashing. All around him he saw black ties and black suits. Lovino, however, had been told to dress differently for this particular occasion. As agreed by the majority of the mafia - the gay member at least - Lovino and Feliciano were the most attractive and elusive of the group; they were most likely to get in. This choice was much to Francis's disapproval. His vain opinions, however, were shot down. His face was far too recognizable unlike the Italian brothers. They had the tendency to remain off the radar. Not too many people knew their faces, and those who had had either kept their mouths shut or were six feet under. Tonight, he and Feliciano would infiltrate a club that the Russians frequented. They had to eavesdrop and get information. They were by no means to engage in an altercation with the Russians. If they could, they had to talk to them, weasel out information. If Ivan Braginski was seen, they were to leave immediately. It was a simple plan, but still, so many things could go wrong. Lovino was reluctant to bring Feliciano along. He was downright defiant when Francis suggested adding a third member to the party.  
"Why the FUCK do you think I want to bring Antonio? You act like I'm ready to _trust_ that bastard. This is a mission where people can get _killed_ , and you want me to take someone _untrained_ along? How can you be sure he can even handle a gun?" Lovino asked. He was pacing around the room, yelling. There was no way he was having this. He was not bringing that Spanish bastard along. This was dangerous. He was untrained. He could get killed. He would not let Antonio go along. There was no question. If there was even the slightest chance of danger, he refused, and everything was at risk. They were going in scantily armed for fucks sake. "I'm reluctant to bring Feli along. What makes you think I want to watch both of them? Idioti... I am not bringing him along, dammit."  
"Yes, you are," Francis said. He had a tone of finality, but Lovino was ready to challenge him.  
"What good would bringing both of them do? It would distract me. How the hell am I supposed to get information out of anyone?"  
"Lovino, you know damned well that Feliciano can handle himself on the field. He's a natural at getting information out of anyone. By bringing Antonio, you two can distract the homophobes in the room. I'm sure Ivan hired plenty as not to risk anyone getting too friendly with his lovely Yao. You're taking Antonio and you two will do all of your couple shit. I don't care, mon amie. You are taking him, and that is that."  
Lovino growled in contempt. "Why the hell do you think I want to do anything with him? He abandoned me for five fucking years."  
"Lovino, darling, pretending that you're holding a grudge." Francis flashed one of his dazzling smiles. "I have heard from a little American birdie that you two were all cozied up together not an hour ago."  
Lovino turned to Alfred, flipped him the bird, and turned back to Francis. "Does that conclude that I want to suck face with him in public? Fuck no. I have some decency and self respect."  
"You will because I will take you off the job otherwise."  
"You fucking bastard! That is not fair!"  
"Life's a bitch, cherie. Suck it up. I'll go make Antonio a handsome devil and you inconspicuously tuck a switchblade anywhere you can. And Feliciano, keep smiling. Don't worry. Ludwig will be just around the corner at another bar if you need him. Just shoot him a text, and he'll come guns blazing to rescue you." Francis smiled at the younger Italian, and Lovino felt just a bit better. If Feliciano was level headed in this, they'd be fine. They'd be okay.  
Lovino sighed gently, gestured for his brother to follow him, and left the room. He didn't head back to his bedroom. He had everything he needed for the night. He had his cell phone, a knife hidden in a compartment in the heel of his shoe, and nerves of steel. He was ready to go. The Italian, his brother, and their German tag-along stalked the hallways, taking turns and heading down flights of stairs until they were at the lower level-parking garage. He got into a black SUV and Feliciano got into another. Ludwig joined the younger brother, leaving Lovino alone. They were heading out as soon as eight o'clock hit. After ten or so minutes, the door opposite to where sat opened. Antonio got in swiftly and shut it behind him. Francis took the front seat; he was driving them tonight.  
In the dim lighting, Lovino could tell that Antonio was in a suit. He wore something just as flouncy and stylish as Lovino, but without the suit jacket. He had a blue dress shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, a black vest, and a striped tie. His pants were plain black, and his had his own pair of black oxfords. His brown curls were damp and tamed. The scratches that littered his arms and legs were practically invisible under the intense makeup Lovino assumed Francis applied. All in all, Antonio looked stunning.  
"Please tell me they weren't stupid enough to give you a gun," Lovino said.  
"No, they didn't. Don't worry, Lovino," he replied.  
"I'm doing nothing but worrying. Why wouldn't I fucking worry! I have both you and Feli going in there and they expect me to be a sitting duck! I can't risk losing both of you in one night, dammit!"  
"You won't lose me. I promise you that Lovino."  
"You better promise..." Lovino whispered.  
The SUV with Feliciano and Ludwig pulled out of the parking garage and Lovino and Antonio pulled out minutes later. They wanted arrive at different times. This place was top notch expensive. It wasn't some place that any person got into. It was exclusive, cocktail dress and suit pant. There was a bouncer at the entrance and the exit. There were other placed throughout the building. They all worked for the Russian. Lovino only hoped they wouldn't be recognized. He and Feliciano had dress different, done their hair differently, and bored different personalities; all of this was done to ensure that they were not recognized. The entire night was riding on that fact. Lovino watched through the window of the SUV as the streetlights flew by. He watched as couples strolled down the street, arm in arm. He and Antonio had to pass off as one of those couples. It sounded so easily, but internally he was torn. Sure he had slept with him already, but showing their relationship... it was something he had always struggled with. Fear was rising in his gut with every mile. He wasn't sure he could pull it off, but as the SUV pulled up into an alley only a few blocks from the joint, he had to make quick decisions.  
Lovino got out of the car and stepped into the dark alley. He ran his fingers through his dark brown hair and breathed in a deep breath. He looked at Francis who had gotten out of the car and was on the phone with he assumed Feliciano.  
"You know what to do. Talk to one of the Russians, if you can a female. Talk to them, get them drinking, if you can flirt. I know that may be odd, but I'm sure you can do it. You and your brother are naturals at flirting with women," Francis said. Lovino looked to Antonio who had an irritated look on his face. The bastard was jealous. Of course Lovino had to flirt with people on the job. That was the way of life. He got the best information out of girls. They were always so willing to spill their guts to anyone who'd listen. "Feli. Keep calm. You have the knife in your heel. Lovino and Antonio will be right there across the room. They'll be watching and listening. No one will be focused on you." Francis paused to listen. A few moments went by. "Yes, Feli. You are allowed to take someone's gun if it comes to that. Just don't kill. Your main concern is getting out. Okay? Yes. Lovino and Antonio will be there in about ten minutes. Don't worry. You'll be fine. Get some wine and relax. Okay. Bye." Francis turned to Lovino and Antonio. Lovino Gazed back with steely amber eyes. "The same goes for you, too. Lovino take this. Don't flash it; don't use it unless it's absolutely necessary. Do not aim to kill. Hide it well." From his pocket Francis took Lovino's silver and grey gun. He held it out to Lovino who stared down at it with contempt.  
"You said we were going in unarmed, Francis," Lovino said. His hands were in fists at his sides.  
"I know what I said before, but I want you to have it just in case. You're a damn good shot, Lovino. Just take it and be careful."  
With reluctance Lovino took the gun. "You'll be in the bar next door?" he asked.  
"Of course, cherie. I'll be with the lovely bartender that works there on the weekends when he's not filing my paperwork and handling my money. Mathew darling, I'm coming!"  
Lovino rolled his eyes and shoved his gun into the holster just below his arm. He wore it despite the fact the plan on going in unarmed. He figured Francis would pull some shit like he always did. Once his gun was secured, Lovino took hold of Antonio's hand. "Come on. We need to get going."  
Lovino lead the way onto the busy main street. He let a dazzling smile cross his lips before looking up at. They hadn't walked that road together since they were in high school. New Year's Eve. Lovino watched the Spaniard's expression. He seemed so enchanted. Lovino gazed at him for a moment longer before looking back to the street. The smile still hung in his lips.  
"Is what he said true?" Antonio suddenly asked.  
"Is what true?" Lovino replied.  
"Are you one of the best at flirting with girls?"  
Holy hell, he was jealous. "I did it for work. It's not like I had feelings for any of them."  
"Did you... kiss any of them?" Antonio asked. He was hesitant. He didn't seem to want to ask the question.  
"You honestly think I would after I flipped last night? I thought you were _married_. I was hurt because I thought you were getting _married._ It was unfathomable for me to even think about kissing a _girl._ I'm _gay."_  
Antonio looked to the ground, a blush covering his cheeks. "Oh. Right. Yeah. I mean, I just thought the job... Yeah. Nevermind."  
Lovino rolled his eyes and squeezed Antonio's hand a bit tighter. He was like an innocent, lost puppy. They walked down the street in the dimming light, hand joined. The thoughts of the looming evening were on their shoulders, but just being together made things better. Lovino was at ease. Things had become suddenly casual between them. Lovino never used to show his adoration for Antonio in public. He never held his hand. He only ever had that embarrassed heated look on his face. Now seemed different. He wasn't a child anymore. He didn't care what others thought. Sure, it was still embarrassing for his friends to walk in on him half naked, but now he was able to accept the little things. He wasn't sure if they were necessarily dating again, but if they were, it would be a pretty kick ass way to tell the story. Lovino chuckled to himself, and just as Antonio was about to ask what was so funny, they approached the line to get into the club. They both fell silent for a moment. There was a thin crowd of people; this joint was more popular at night. Only a few individuals were in front of them, and the bouncer was quick to turn them away. They didn't seem to like the loud, blonde male that wore a Danish flag on the back of his jacket. They did, however, like the dark skinned girl with long dark hair, red bows, and a light blue dress. The way she stood seemed so innocent. There was no way she was over twenty-one, but she was let in anyways. She was let in anyways. Lovino and Antonio followed after. The bouncers looked at them and nodded. They were in.  
As soon as they crossed the threshold of the club, Lovino let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. The music was tasteful and not ear-splittingly loud. The place could be considered a restaurant if not for the huge dance floor and girls dancing on poles. The Russian certainly knew where to hang out. The people inside were classy. Even the dancers had on what seemed to be expensive, although skimpy, clothing. Lovino was glad he and Antonio had dressed to impress. He led the Spaniard off to a booth in the corner of the room and sat down. From where they were, Lovino could see Feliciano. He was talking to the bartender, a very pretty blonde girl with a bob. He recognized her from the local news channel. She was Katyusha Braginski, the Russian's older sister. She must have worked here on the weekends. She seemed approachable and calm. The usually frantic Feliciano seemed at ease talking to her. He'd handle himself well for just a little while.  
Lovino turned to Antonio and smiled slightly. "So. Now we wait," he said  
"And now we wait," Antonio replied. "Do you want anything to drink? I'll go to the bar."  
"Yeah, uh, wine. Nothing too strong. I don't want to get drunk."  
Lovino watched as Antonio stood gracefully and sauntered over to the counter. By the look on Katyusha's face was one of delight. She seemed happy to serve him. Her personality was so innocent. She didn't even seem to recognize him from all those years ago. He did look younger back in those days. His face was more angular; he had lost most of his baby fat. The stubble that grew in on his face in the mornings was also fuller; it accented his face well. Lovino like it a lot. By the time Antonio returned, Lovino was lost in his musings. The Spaniard cleared his throat and set down the two glasses wine.  
"Houston to Space Cadet. Houston to Space Cadet. Would you like your wine?"  
The Italian looked up and smiled vaguely. "Oh. Sorry. I was lost in my thoughts," Lovino replied.  
"Welcome back to Earth Space Cadet. Would you like to share your journeys with the class?"  
"Nothing too important right now," he said. Lovino picked up his glass and sipped the wine absently. Antonio always said such strange things. Lovino had already learned to ignore them.  
"Oh. I'm sure that's true," the other male said with a roll of his eyes. "Do you like it? The wine?"  
"Yes. It's good. Better than the crap Arthur and Francis say is the best on the planet," he said. Lovino twisted the neck of the glass in his fingers, watching the liquid spin stay put while it spun. "That Russian certainly knows what to buy."  
"You should have seen his lunches in high school. He didn't miss out on any good Russian soul cooking," Antonio replied. "He was high maintenance then, too."  
Lovino chuckled slightly. He glanced over at his little brother again. They were at ease. That is until he saw the gun pointed at the back of Feliciano's head and the falsely cheery look on Katyusha's face. Lovino saw through it easily. They were caught, and the girl was trying so hard not to be terrified.  
"FELI! DUCK!" Lovino yelled, jumping to his feet. His wine fell from his hand, and the glass shattered. The red liquid spread all over the white table cloth, but Lovino didn't care. He merely pushed past anyone that was in his way. He heard the shot, though, and stopped. His amber eyes searched frantically for his brother and any signs of blood. He was on the ground, in a heap, but Lovino saw no blood. He saw movement and a flash of silver. His little brother was on the move, knife in hand. But the little piece of plastic and metal would so nothing against any weapon the Russians had in their arsenal. He had brought a knife to a gunfight, but Lovino… Lovino had a gun of his own. He pulled it from the holster beneath his arm. The metal was cold to the touch, but he felt nothing. He was far more concerned with the ensuing events. "FELI! GET DOWN AND STAY DOWN!"  
And then Lovino shot. He didn't aim to kill. He went for the legs. If they were too low, they'd never get a good aim, especially with the tables and poles scattered about. Lovino tried not hit anyone else in the room. He refused to injure a bystander. Shots were fired back at him, but he was in no concern for his safety. He'd been in worse situations and was more concerned for Feliciano and Antonio.  
Fuck.  
Antonio. Lovino had forgotten to make sure he had some sort of weapon. But when he turned to face Antonio, he noticed that he wasn't on the ground, terrified. No, he had wrestled a gun from a fallen Russian and was protecting himself. He was shooting as if were second nature to him. Lovino didn't stare for too long, though. Bullets were flying around him. He shot down Russian after Russian, but they didn't seem to care about their injuries. There were at least twenty of them, and Lovino needed to get through. Aiming to maim was getting difficult. He and Antonio were firing. Feliciano had found a gun, too. All three were firing. None had the chance to get to a phone to make a call. He only hoped that Francis heard something and called for backup.  
"Lovino!" Feliciano yelled. He was getting closer to his older brother, waving one arms while he shot with the other. Lovino turned around to see what his brother was so frantic about. Behind him was a figure in traditional Chinese silks of bright colors. His hair was long and tamed only by a thin band of rubber. On his back was a bag with a panda bear poking out of the top. The animal was not stuffed; it was a real cub. He also saw the glint of silver that was a gun. Lovino did not think. He raised his own weapon and fired. Yao Wang gripped his shoulder and staggered slightly. He, however, did not stop. The Chinese man stalked forward, anger in his eyes. Lovino fired again, aiming this time for a leg. This time the man fell, but the feeling Lovino had in his gut was not one of relief. It was dread. Wang was too important. He was the Russian's lover. Lovino turned away quick to continue to fend of the Russians and get to the exit. He would not be caught here. He had injured Wang. He was as good as dead. And then it suddenly stopped. The Russians stopped shooting. Their guns were raised and trained on Antonio, Feliciano, and Lovino, but no bullets were fired.  
"Enough," said an eerily calm voice. A feeling of dread washed over Lovino. He recognized that too soft voice. The Russian was coming. He must have been watching the entire time. "Enough. Now move out of my way," Ivan said. He pushed past people, bruised and bleeding alike, and stopped in front of Lovino. "Move, you insolent child." Lovino wasn't sure if it was fear that compelled him to move, or the sheer size of the massive man, but he stepped aside. He watched the Russian kneel down next to the Chinese man. When he spoke again, he didn't look at Lovino. "You shot him, ja?" Lovino said nothing and instead clenched his jaw. He wasn't going to fear this murderer. He stood his ground, fists clenched at his sides. "Round them up," Braginski said. He did not move from Yao's side. His large hands were pressed against the wounds on the main's limbs. When he noticed no one was moving, he whispered a soft, "Now."  
Lovino felt hands take hold of his arms. He struggled a bit, but he was pitiful physically compared to the enormous Russians. He, Antonio, and Feliciano were brought to the front of Ivan. Feliciano had a sick, empty look on his face. Antonio was expressionless. Lovino was purely angry. "I shot him. Let those two go, Braginski," Lovino said. He didn't realize he was speaking until the words tumbled from his lips. Deep down, that was what he wanted. Sure, he was terrified of what the Russian would do to him. He, however, was not going to lose anyone else to the bastard. That would destroy him. Feliciano used to be the only person that mattered before the day previous. Now Antonio was back, and he was putting everything on the line. There was so much more to lose now. Everything and everyone he loved was at risk. He wouldn't put these people in the line of fire when this was his fault. "Don't hurt them."  
"Oh, I intend to let you three go, Mr. Vargas. Yes, I know who you are. I had your grandfather killed remember? No, do not worry. You can go, but not without a parting gift to help you remember not to damage what is mine," the Russian said. He raised his gun and aimed. Dread washed over Lovino. His parting gift was pain. Ivan shot, but Lovino didn't feel any pain. He looked at the barrel of the gun. It was not aligned with him. He then heard someone collapse behind him. The worse was suddenly in slow motion. Lovino turned and a drawn out cry of anguish escaped his lips. Feliciano was on the ground, in a heap. The Russian had shot Feliciano! Lovino knelt down, but it seemed to take ages for his knees to crash hard against the tiled floor. He grabbed hold of his little brother, hugging his tightly to his chest. The bullet had gone into his neck and exited out the back of the lower portion of his skull; the Russian was still crouched beside Yao, and therefore had the perfect angle for shooting upwards. The spot of red at Feliciano's clavicle was growing larger. He was bleeding at the entrance of the wound. Feliciano looked up at Lovino with his light eyes. They held no emotion. They seemed lifeless and dead.  
"You can save him if you leave now. He will not die. I have made that shot before. People have survived. You take him to the hospital before he dies. And if you ever come near Yao again, I will not hesitate to take your trophy of a friend right beside you." Ivan's words held so many threats. He knew he wasn't lying, but Lovino was too furious to think rationally.  
"He is a just a child!" Lovino said through staggered breaths.  
"He is or was just a child?" Ivan asked. "If you do not leave, it will be in the past tense Go."  
"Come on Lovino," Antonio said. The Spaniard lifted Feliciano from the ground and carried him bridal style towards the door. "Call Francis and Gilbert. Tell them to get Ludwig to the hospital _after_ we get Feliciano into surgery. We don't want him causing a shit storm in the ER."  
Lovino nodded and made the call. His voice was dull when he spoke. He learned that Francis hadn't heard the shots from the building next door. The music was too loud and he was too distracted by Mathew. He was going to drive them to the hospital. Antonio set Feliciano on the floor of the SUV in the back; they had taken the rear seats out to fit equipment in the back a few days prior. Lovino was at his side, applying pressing to both the wounds on his neck and skull.  
Every God-awful thought that could go through his head was flying in too many directions. He couldn't concentrate on anything but he unconscious form of his brother. He was going to lose the last bit of family he had left. He had already lost Grandpa to the Russian. He couldn't lose his fratello, too. Tears stung at Lovino's eyes, but he dashed them away with the back of his hand. Everything was at risk here: his life, his sanity, and his brother. They needed to go faster.  
"Come on!" Lovino yelled. "Come on! Francis we need to go faster! He's dying! Francis! Please!"  
"Lovino! I'm going fifty down a thirty-five! If I go any faster, I'll kill all five of us!" Francis replied. He seemed to be calm in such a horrible situation. It must have been taking his all Feliciano was like a brother to him, too. "We're almost there. Just calm down and keep pressure on his wounds. You don't want to kill him because you're too frazzled to stopped the bleeding."  
Lovino nodded. Francis was treating him like a child, but in this situation, it needed to happen. He was not in his right mind to care for his brother, but he couldn't trust anyone else to do it. Ludwig was not there. He didn't even know yet… That is until Francis answer his phone.  
"Salut,*" he said. "Ludwig. We left. Sorry we didn't tell you. We were more concerned with something else-" Francis paused for a moment. "Mon amie! Tais-toi!** We didn't do it to ditch you! Gilbert isn't even here. Yes, Ludwig, I'm sure. We're heading to the hospital right now…" He paused again, but for longer this time. "LUDWIG! Id o not know Germ even after growing up with Opa! Calm the fuck down! It will be alright! Now, don't start freaking out. Braginski shot Feliciano… in the head. No! Do not start speeding! It will do no good for Feli if you get arrested. I have a reason to speed down the street. You need to go slow! If you get arrested, I'm leaving you in there until tomorrow morning! Meet us at the hospital. À tout a l'heur.***" He hung up and sighed. "So much for keeping him in the dark. I'm assuming he's going eighty down any road he can…"  
Lovino blocked out the rest of Francis' nervous rambiling. He watched his brother again, tears finally spilling over his lower lids. "Hold in there Feliciano," he said. "You can make it you have to make it. You're all I have left."  
The Italian was broken. He couldn't handle it all. The pain was so utterly real. It was like when Antonio left and when Grandpa died. Feliciano was his annoying, little brother. His brother head lulled to sleep when the nightmares became unbearable. The brother that crawled into his bed whenever he had nightmares even though both boys had already reached the their twenties. He had always been there when Feliciano was too scared to sleep alone when Ludwig was on a job. Now he was in a sleep that hadn't been anticipated. He was forced into it, and he only wondered what nightmares raved in his little brother's head. Feliciano…  
They arrived outside of the hospital and Antonio opened the back hatch of the SUV. He lifted Feliciano from the floor; there was a patch of blood beneath where his head had lain. Antonio carried him inside, and Lovino, Francis, and Mathew followed behind.  
"We need some help!" Antonio yelled. The nurses came to him, their expressions puzzled. "He was shot in the head. He's barely hanging in. Please."  
The nurses nodded briskly and ran off in different directions. One brought in a gurney and the other a surgeon. Antonio set Feliciano down just as Ludwig burst through the door.  
"Feliciano!" he yelled. The tall blonde was locked in place, stunned. Seeing the love of his life so lifeless and limp must have been rough.  
"Does he have any family with him?" one of the Nurses asked.  
Lovino nodded and stepped up. "I'm his older brother. I'm all he has…"  
"I need you to come with me. I have paperwork that needs to be filled out Mr.-" she paused, waiting for him to state his name.  
"Vargas. Lovino Vargas. Please. Save him. Don't let him die."  
"We'll do everything we can, Mr. Vargas. Now, please, follow me."  
Lovino left the waiting room, his eyes glancing back only to see a very lost Anotnio and an utterly broken German. Ludwig's composure had never been broken before. He had never seen the man cry, not even when Aldrich was murdered. Seeing him now made him realize that Feliciano wasn't just his. He meant the world to Ludwig, and if they lost him tonight, they'd both lost a part of themselves they could never regain. Feliciano had better pull through.

{*Salut: Hello  
{**Tais-toi: Please be quiet roughly towards a single person.  
{***À tout a l'heur: See you soon}

((Now, that was fun. I had a ton to work with, although, like I tend to do, I lost a page, procrastinated for at least two weeks, found the page, and then got on another roll. I think this is like fourteen pages in word. Maybe more. It was murder to decipher my chicken scratch handwriting. But I pulled through. Sorry for the last ass update. Thanks for reading. Oh. Yeah. Cliffhangers are a bitch, but I had a suggestion made to me that I just couldn't refuse. So Feliciano is in a life or death situation. Will he live or die. BUM BUM BUM))


	13. Boss Spain

Lovino was dazed and tired, but he couldn't find the will to get up. He was so comfortable snuggled in his blankets. He found himself nestling deeper into them, but his mind was waking. Sounds around him were too clear. They were too loud and irritating. Now that he was aware of them, he'd never fall back into his warm slumber. Lovino sat up with a bit of reluctance and rubbed his brow eyes with his fists. For some reason, he was alone. In an alley. He couldn't place why, and he couldn't remember where he had been before this. He was just in an alley. Lovino blinked a few more times to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. They were not. He was really alone in that alley.

What the actual fuck was going on?

Lovino stood on wobbly legs. When he took another look around to try and get his bearings, he noticed that the buildings seemed to loom higher than usual around him. He couldn't even spot the tops of the metal garbage cans around him. He felt too short here, and he didn't like it, not one bit. Lovino walked slowly towards the mainstreet, his brow furrowed. Everything felt so weird. His strides weren't as long, his arms seemed shorter. He couldn't place what was wrong, not even when he stepped on the pulsing mainstreet. There were throngs of people, and every single one of them towered over him. Lovino didn't like that either. Anxiety was building in his chest so quickly. Lovino couldn't handle it. He felt the most irrational tears beginning to pool in his eyes. He didn't want to cry, he couldn't, not in the middle of this crowd. But he was so lost. He felt so alone and conflicted.

"Romano!" a familiar voice yelled. Why was that voice so familiar? And why the fuck did it just call him by the name of the place he was born? "Romano! Stay where you are! I'm coming for you!"

Lovino did not move, although, he was utterly confused. The owner of the familiar voice found him in the center of the crowd and looked down upon him. He, too, like all of the others, towered over him.

"Romano! Where have you been? I've been looking for you everywhere!"

"Antonio! You mother fucking bastard, I've been sleeping in an _alley!_ How do you just ditch me and let me sleep in an _alley?_ "

"Antonio?" the taller man asked.

"Yes," Lovino said impatiently, "that's your name, idiot."

"No, Romano, my name is Spain," he replied.

"No, you complete and utter bastard. It is not. And my name is not Romano. Quit fucking around, and tell me what the hell is going on."

"I have no idea what you're going on about, Romano. How much did you have to drink last night?"

"I didn't drink at all. I just woke up in a fucking alley, and I don't fucking know why."

Antonio rubbed his face with his hands, an exasperated look on his features. "I had a party last night, and after Turkey tried to take you home with him, you grabbed a bottle and stormed out the door, yelling about needing to be independent. I think you called me a 'narcissistic necrophiliac of a Tomato Bastard' that could not 'respect the space of a very independent territory', and that I could 'clean my own mother fucking house' because all you wanted to do was 'kick up your feet with a bottle and some pizza'. You also threatened that if I dared to follow you, you'd 'take the rusty ass axe from the shed and castrate me like the little girl I was'. You then threw a half-full wine bottle at my head and stormed out. I didn't go out until morning to find you based on that threat with my old war axe."

Lovino paused for a moment. He knew he didn't do that the night before. Sure, he couldn't remember anything from the evening previous, but that didn't mean he had gone nuts on the bastard. He looked up at Antonio, or Spain as he insisted on calling himself. The bastard was smiling him his usual, carefree manner. nothing seemed off about him other than the names he was using.

"Come on Romano..." Antonio said. He took hold of Lovino and lifted him with ease.

Lovino flipped. Antonio had picked him up! He was a grown man! "Put me down you fucking bastard! I'm too big to be carried!"

"You're literally like two feet tall, if that, Romano."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm decently tall. _You_ have no idea what you're talking about. Antonio, put me down! Quit playing games with me!"

"My name is Spain. I'm not playing games with you. Come on, we need to get home. You have a mess to clean up before we go out, not like you're going to actually clean."

"You're damn fucking right I won't. Now put me down, you bastard!"

"Fine. You're very irritable today," Antonio said. He set Lovino down. "Come on. We need to get moving."

Lovino groaned and followed behind Antonio. The male towered over him, and lovino struggled to keep up. His legs were too short. He wobbled behind the Spaniard.

"Slow down you fuck! You're walking too fast!" Lovino yelled.

Antonio smiled and stopped, his tanned hands in his pockets. "And that's why I was carrying you, Romano. You can never keep up with those short, little legs."

Lovino looked down at his legs and frowned. "What the fuck am I wearing? What is _this?_ A dress and an apron?" Lovino lifted his skirt of the dress he was wearing. "Am I wearing _bloomers?_ What the fuck is this shit?"

"That's what you wear... everyday..." he said.

"Why the fuck is it pink?"

"That's coral. It's always either coral or green. Why do you seem so surprised?"

"I'm wearing a fucking dress! I'm cross-dressing! I don't do that!" he yelled, stamping his little feet. Lovino felt so little. For some reason, his entire body was small. It was like he was a child again. "I don't want to wear a dress and a damned apron!"

"What do you want to wear?" Antonio asked. He seemed hesitant and unsure.

"Oh, I don't know... Pants?" Lovino said sarcastically.

"You're absolutely sure that nothing is wrong? Are you still drunk?" Antonio asked, placing his palm on Lovino's forehead. "You're kind of warm. Come on, let's go." Antonio picked Lovino up again.

"Bastard! Put me down!" Lovino yelled. His voice sounded so high pitched. He didn't understand what was going on, but he didn't want to be held. "Antonio! I'm fine!"

"Spain," he corrected.

"Fine, Spain, I'm fine! Put me down!"

"Romano, you're warm. I'm not letting you down. You could be sick. You could have alcohol poisoning. It's a very likely possibility with your small stature and light weight."

"You're such a fucking bastard, you know that?"

"You've said it a thousand times, I get it. But how can I be a bastard? All I do is care," he said. "Where has the rationale of people gone?"

"I don't fucking know. Put me down."

"I'm your boss, Romano. Can't you just listen for once?"

Lovino paused in mock thought, his stubby hand resting upon on his rounded, chubby chin. "No. I won't. And don't call yourself my boss. That sounds like some kinky, rapey shit right there."

"Romano! What on God's green Earth has gotten into you? I swear, I think you're still drunk. Are you still drunk? Hungover? How much did you drink?"

"No, I'm not drunk, and I never was! I never had an ounce to drink, you green eyed bastard! But you're seriously going to drive me to drink if you don't put me down! Antonio! Ugh! _Spain!_ Put me down! What are you going into a random house? What is this shit? Where does this hallway lead? Ack! Put me down! Anto- _Spain!"_

Antonio carried Lovino into a room and flipped the lights on. Inside the room was a large bed with green sheets the color of Antonio's eyes. The little Italian was set down and promptly tucked beneath the heavy down comforter. Lovino crossed his short arms over his chest, his face warped into a frown.

"There. Now get some sleep, Romano."

"I'm not going to sleep because I'm perfectly fine. Now go away, and go do whatever you want to do."

"I'm going to run to the store, Romano. Stay in bed and don't do anything. When I get back, we need to go to the hospital."

The Spaniard shut off the lights in the room and closed the door behind him. Lovino waited for the front door of the house to slam shut before climbing from the entirely too tall bed. There was no way in hell he was staying in bed. Who did that bastard Spain think he was? Holy hell, he just called him _Spain._ Lovino frowned and started towards what he hoped was the kitchen. His stomach wasn't empty, and it wasn't doing the gurglies. He just needed to fill his boredom, and eating would do just that. He needed something to do until the Tomato Bastard came home. Lovino stepped through the open doorway into the kitchen and stopped. The room was enormous compared to Lovino. He felt so little. He _was_ so little. He stepped forward and looked a little closer at the looming stainless steel fridge. He needed to find something out of it, but for some reason he felt that there would be nothing simple to cook. He doubted the bastard had any leftovers, and he for sure couldn't use the enormous stove. When he managed to pry the heavy door open, he realized his hypothesis was correct. The Spaniard, of course, left the fridge clean. Lovino let a groan escape his lips before he pulled a few things from the fridge: tomatoes, butter, and cheese. There were endless possibilities for that.

Lovino knew how to cook. He had known since he was younger. He was now, however, on an entirely different playing level. His size had miraculously changed. He was now a fourth of his adult height. The counter was at least twice that. He took a brief look around and spotted a chair. It was a good height that would allow him to easily climb onto the countertop. The only problem now was actually moving it. He tottered over to it and started to pull on the leg. It budged a little, but it took much effort. The fucking thing was heavy. Lovino groaned in protest and sighed for a moment. He then tugged again and managed to move it more than an inch. He managed to get the chair across the floor with his tugging process, his little arms tired afterwards. He then climbed up, and tugged himself onto the countertop along with his ingredients.

The small boy wanted something simple that wouldn't take him too long to make. Pasta and bruschetta it was. Lovino toddled along the counters that lined the entire kitchen until he made it to the jar that held bowtie pasta noodles. He carried those to the stove and left them there. He also tugged a big metal pot down from where it hung on the wall above the stove. Rather than lug it across the counter, Lovino placed it on his head. As he waddled back towards the sink and set the pot down next to it. He grabbed the spraying nozzle and set it inside the pot. He then turned on the hot water. He hit the button on the nozzle and filled the pot about 3/4 of the way full. He then pushed the big pot back towards the stove He set it on top of the burner and turned the switch to light it. He added a dash of salt so the water wouldn't boil over. He then set a big wooden spoon down next to the stove for later.

Next was his bruschetta. He saw a loaf of french bread on the counter. He grabbed a bread knife from the chopping block nearby and sliced it into thin pieces. He only needed five or six. He left the rest of the loaf on the counter. He toddle back to the floor and turned the stove on to a decent temperature before climbing back up. He diced up a tomato and put a bit of it on each of the pieces of bread. After, he sprinkled cheese on all six. Just as he was climbing down to put the bruschetta in the oven, the front door opened.

Lovino stood stock still. Spain - Antonio - walked through the door, a large brown paper bag in his hands. He stood just as still when he saw Lovino opening the oven door.

After a moment of silence, he spoke. "You're actually cooking? I tell you to clean, you trash the house even more and order pizza. Why is it when I tell you to stay in bed, you decide to cook a two course meal. I can't understand you. It's reverse psychology at all times with you."

"What kid is going to say in bed when they're told? What kid is going to clean when they're told. You're such an idiot..." he grumbled. He looked to the parcel in Antonio's hand. It was giving off a mouthwatering aroma. "What is that...?"

"Chinese food from China's restaurant down the block. It's really good. Do you-"

Lovino interrupted. "Throw it away." His voice was darkly resolute.

"But Romano, I just bought-"

"You can either throw away the damn chinese, or I can throw a pot of boiling water at you. Take your pick, _Spain._ "

Antonio frowned, opened the lid on the garbage can, and dropped the bag of food inside. "Happy?" he asked.

"Yes. Now, help me cook, you ungrateful bastard," he demanded. He grumbled on under his breath. "I slave over a hot stove, boiling water, lifting heavy things. And as I am putting the bruschetta in the oven, you walk in with Chinese... Ungrateful. I swear..." Lovino pushed the tray of bruschetta into the oven and slammed the door shut. He then grabbed the jar of bowtie noodles and poured them into the now boiling water. He took a big wooden spoon and stirred them just a bit so they wouldn't stick together. He turned back to Antonio with a cold glare on his face. "Get the tomato paste and make a fresh tomato sauce. Now."

It was only a matter of time before the food was finished. The duo had a simple dinner of pasta and bruschetta. They ate in silence, but it wasn't awkward. It was calm and soothing. It ended all too soon, far too quickly.

"We need to go, Romano," Antonio said softly.

"Where?" Lovino asked.

"The hospital, Romano."

"Why?"

"You'll see, Romano. You'll see..." he said.

Lovino said nothing. He merely left the house with the taller Spaniard. His curiosity was at its highest, but there was a certain tension in the air. Antonio seemed to be... conflicted about what they were attending the hospital for. Did he have a relative in the hospital? Were they visiting his mother? Was his mother in the hospital? Lovino didn't have the heart to ask. He didn't want to be inconsiderate by asking.

The reached the glass doors rather quickly. Antonio lived close to the sterile-looking structure. As they walked through the doors, Antonio took hold of Lovino's hand. He gave him a grim smile. He approached the receptionist slowly. She said nothing. She looked from antonio to Lovino with a sad, knowing expression. She waved them on without a word. She seemed to know where they were going, who they were going to visit. But how? They walked away from the woman towards the elevators. Antonio pushed the button that Lovino was too short to reach and waited for the doors to open. With each passing second, Lovino felt his anxiety rising. The doors opened in the slow way that they always did, and they stepped inside. Antonio hit the button that would take them fifteen floors up. Each number seemed to move so slowly. Up and up they went, but Lovino could not lift the pressure that he was feeling. The numbers stopped, and the doors opened. The pair walked out and followed a few halls to a patient's room. Room 1544*. The number seemed vaguely familiar. Lovino stopped outside of the closed door, and waited, his brow furrowed.

"Who's in there, Spain?" Lovino asked softly. There was a bit of fear behind his little voice, but he didn't understand why.

"Someone you need to see, Romano..." he said just as softly.

Antonio opened the door and revealed a sight that Lovino was not prepared for.

A younger version of Francis lay on the ground in front of a large hospital bed. He seemed to be unconscious. he was only recognizable to Lovino by his red and blue clothes, his long, wavy blonde hair, and the light stubble that graced his chin. He was small, like Lovino, but he also seemed older. He might have just been tiny. How he had ended up on the floor in the hospital room, Lovino did not understand. He wasn't even sure that he wanted to understand.

Antonio walked past the fallen frenchman and led Lovino closer to the bed. He was too short to see who lay there, and antonio stood in the way of the bed.

"Holy Roman Empire? Can you give us a moment?" Antonio asked.

"Spain! He's mine! I won him fair and square!" a small voice cried.

"I know... But I brought Romano. Can you please just give us a moment..?" he asked.

Another small man was suddenly before Lovino. He was blond with blue eyes. His short, plump frame was garbed in black, and there was a familiar cross around his neck. It had to be a younger version of Ludwig. He glared at Lovino before walking out of the room and slamming the door behind him. Lovino watched as he went. He could almost sense a bit of sadness in the way he walked. He couldn't help but wonder why everyone seemed so sad.

Antonio lifted Lovino from the floor. He did not protest this time. He couldn't. His fear and curiosity was running wild. And then... A wave of cold defeat washed over him.

"Feli..." Lovino whispered. The name was so sad rolling off of his tongue. He sat down on the foot of the bed, balling his little white apron into his tiny fists. Before his lay a sickly, younger version of his beloved brother. He looked so pale. He wasn't even sweating. It was as if he was asleep. "Spain? What happened to him? Why is my little brother here? Why is he in the hospital? My fratello..."

"He got hurt. He got hurt in the wars between the nations... He's dying, Romano..." the Spaniard whispered.

Tears welled in Lovino's eyes. He wiped at them with his chubby hands.

"I don't know why he hasn't passed, but I think you're making him stay. I know you love him a lot, Romano, and all of the times I've been around him... He admires ou. He knows that you two only have each other..."

Lovino looked back to Antonio. "B-but... He's so broken. H-how can I-I help him i-if I-I don't k-know h-how?" he asked. His words were broken by his sobs. His little brother, his fratella was dying, and he didn't know how to help. He squeezed his eyes shut as he spoke. "S-Spain! Y-You're big and s-strong! W-Why can't y-you h-help him?"

"Because it has to be you Romano," he whispered, nudging the Italian closer to his brother. "You need to help him. Go to him. Go closer. Go see him Lovino."

The words rang in his head. "Go see him Lovino. Come on. The nurse said you can go in. I'll come with you, if you want."

Lovino opened his eyes. He was in a waiting room. There was no longer a bed or a smaller version of his little brother. He looked down at his arms and hands. They were no longer chubby, stubby things. They were covered in tattoos and hair. He was no longer the size of a child. He turned to Antonio and stretched out his stiff limbs.

"Spain..? What are you talking about?"

"Lovino, I thought we got over the name calling in High School. My name is Antonio, you prat," he said in a joking manner. Lovino could tell that he was confused. "We're at the hospital with Feliciano, remember? You fell asleep... Are you okay, Lovi?"

Oh. Oh right. That's what had happened. Feliciano... His little brother was at the hospital. It wasn't entirely just a dream. He had been shot only a few short hours ago. He had been hurt so terribly by the damned Russian. He sighed and looked back to the male beside him.

"Yeah. I had a dream... It's a long story... I'm going to see Feliciano. Come with me?"

"Of course," he said.

The Spaniard climbed to his feet and waited for Lovino to take the lead. The Italian walked over to the receptionist and gave her a weak smile. She returned it easily.

"Feliciano Vargas?" Lovino asked.

The receptionist perused her computer for a moment before replying. "Ahh. Yes. He just got out of surgery. He's in the ICU - Intensive Care Unit. Immediate family is only permitted to see him. Are you related?"

"I'm his older brother, Lovino Vargas. This is a close family friend," he said, gesturing to Antonio.

"The receptionist's expression immediately turned sour. "I'm sorry, Sir, but only family is permitted to see the patient. I have already dealt with a very teary eyed blond German man. He just barged on through while a Frenchman tried to seduce me."

Lovino scowled and opened his mouth to speak. "Ludwig is family and Antonio is just the same. Don't tell me who can and cannot see _my_ brother. I am all he has, and if I were to tell him that I allowed-"

Antonio cut him off. "Lovi, it's fine. I'll wait here. Francis and Gilbert went to the cafeteria to get food anyways. I'll wait here. Just go before they keep you from seeing him, too."

Lovino scowled again, but did not protest. He sent one last longing look at Antonio and started down the halls. He followed the receptionist to a room. The number was 44. His dream didn't seem all that off at this point.

The receptionist turned towards him, her expression just as sour as it was only a few minutes prior. "Do not disturb the other patients, please. If I hear of anything, I will have security escort you out."

Lovino nodded and waited until she left to open the door. The room was dimly lit. A bed was at the center, but Francis was - much to Lovino's happiness - not at the foot this time. Ludwig, however, was at Feliciano's side, gripping onto his hand gently. When Lovino shut the door, the German looked back at him. His blue eyes were pink from crying. Tears streaking his face. The sight made tears sting at Lovino's own eyes.

"They said they don't know if he'll wake up... He went comatose, and they aren't sure if he'll wake up. They don't know if there is any damage to his brain. They don't know what the bullet hit. They sewed shut his wounds, and they're hoping for the best," Ludwig whispered through gritted teeth.

Lovin's eyes shifted from the German to his little brother. He was hooked up to so many monitors. An IV was stuck into his arm with a drip going. His was on breathing tubes. The area above his clavicle had a bandaged taped across it. His head was bandaged so his hair was matted down, but that same curl that his little brother also had stuck up despite them. He was in such a pitiful state, so much more so than his dream

"He will be okay, Ludwig. He has to be..." Lovino whispered. He sat down beside his brother and looked upon him with those sad, amber eyes.

Lovino wasn't sure what he'd do if his brother died. He had already lost his Roma to the Russian. That man had already claimed the life of one of his family members. He could not lose a second to him. He had also nearly lost Antonio. He had been through so much pain over the years, and he could bare no more. To lose Feliciano... The pain would be too real. He couldn't imagine how it must have felt for Ludwig. The German had lost his grandfather, Aldrich, to the Russian. He was so close to losing another loved one. When Antonio had disappeared overseas, he was still alive. He was missing from Lovino's life, but he was physically somewhere. His brother was on the brink of life and death. Any pain that Ludwig would feel would be a million times worse than that Lovino felt. The German would suffer. He loved Feliciano like Lovino did. He was sure they'd get married at some point... if Feliciano lived.

There was a knock on the door, and Lovino turned. Three policemen stood in the doorway. What they wanted, Lovino could only imagine. He waved them in wearily, his eyes falling back to his little brother.

"Are you Lovino Vargas?" one asked. Lovino turned again. He nodded slowly. "My name is Sheriff Luna. I took over for the county after Alrich Beilschmidt passed. These two are Officers Walsh and Booker. Can we speak with you, Mr. Vargas?"

He stood slowly, his hand at his side. He looked down at his brother then back to the officers. "Does it have to be this second? This is very important to me..." he muttered, his tone passive.

"Let me rephrase that. I need you to come with us, Mr. Vargas. We need to speak with you. That can either happen in here in front of your brother or out in the hallway in private. Take your pick."

Lovino gave a resigned sigh and nodded. He left the room swiftly and gracefully. Once in the hall, he turned to the trio of cops. "What do you need me for? Can't you see that I'm trying to be with the little remnants that I have left of my family?"

"We understand that, Mr. Vargas, but I believe that you have larger problems on your hands. You, your brother, another man were seen on video footage at a local nightclub, shooting at security, many of which are injured. The owner, Ivan Braginski, is pressing charges on the behalf of his security. Yao Wang is pressing charges over injuries," Sheriff Luna said.

Lovino furrowed his brow and scowled. " _They_ put a gun to my brothers head. _They_ fired a shot. _They_ could have killed him if I hadn't warned him. _They_ nearly did kill him. Braginski shot my brother and there he is, comatose," Lovino raved, shoving his finger in the direction of his pitiful brother. "He admitted to murdering my grandfather. He murdered Aldrich Beilschmidt. He has _killed_ people! He might add another member of our families to the list!" Lovino gestured to Ludwig who had come to the door of the room to see what the commotion was. "So, if you're going to arrest me, then you'd better arrest the damned Russian."

Sheriff Luna looked at Lovino, his brow raised. He seemed unsure on how to respond to his outburst. After a moment, a small smile drew onto his lips. He spoke slowly and calmly. "You act as if we don't already know this, Mr. Vargas. The Russian has eyes and ears everywhere, even in the police force."

Lovino's eyes grew wide. The Russian had them everywhere, his drones and his spies. He gritted his teeth and curled his hands into fists. "And you're arresting me on his behalf? He's going to cause me more pain and trouble than he already has?" Lovino snorted and turned away from the cops. "If you think you'll get me to go quietly, then you've got another thing coming to you."

"He gladly will, Mr. Vargas," the sheriff said easily. Lovino heard the jangle of cuffs and then a click. This wasn't just an ordinary click. It was one of those three bastards drawing back their weapon. They had a gun on Lovino. He did not turn back towards them. He merely remained still and silent. "We have a warrant for your arrest. We have also been informed that you are arms, Vargas. You can come quietly, or we can do this the hard way. That's risky business, the hard way." Lovino's amber eyes flicked over to Ludwig. He looked worn and worried. His tall, muscular frame was tense with apprehension. If these cops were willing to open fire in the hospital, they could easily shoot an innocent or even worse, Feliciano. He closed his eyes and breathed out a sigh. "Down on the ground, Vargas. Hands on the ground on either side of your head."

Lovino slowly got down on the ground. He let his belly touch the cool linoleum tile. His hands fell about six inches from either side of his head. One of the two cops, Officer Booker, immediately pounced on him. His hands were cuffed behind him swiftly and tightly.

"Lovino Vargas, you are under arrest for felony assault and battery with the use of an illegal weapon," Booker began, patting down Lovino in search of a weapon. He hauled him to his feet roughly. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand these rights?"

Lovino was on the brink of agreeing when a small voice interrupted him.

"Lovino? Ludwig?" it asked.

Lovino looked in the direction of his younger brother, his mouth agape. He was awake. His brown eyes were cracked open and confused. "Stop!" Lovino pleaded. "He's awake! Please, just let me talk to him!"

With a bit of reluctance, Booker led Lovino towards his little brother. He shoved the older italian in the chair beside the bed. "You have to minutes, and then the Sheriff will be back."

Sheriff Luna was walking away. He was heading towards the waiting room for some odd reason. Why was the Sheriff leaving Lovino did not understand. He had hardly stayed to watch Lovino's arrest before disappearing. It was odd. But that was unimportant at the moment.

Lovino looked to Feliciano. he knew with the amount of drugs in his body that he wouldn't be awake for much longer. Lovino spoke in fluent Italian. His words were fast and rushed.

"Feli, the Russian set us up He must have known we were coming. This has to be a ruse to get powerful and influential people out of the way," Lovino spoke.

"Where am I? Where are we? Why are you in cuffs?" Feliciano asked, furrowing his brow.

"We're in the hospital, Feli. The Russian bastard shot you. You will be okay, I promise, but they arrested me. It will be okay. Francis will get me out. Ludwig is here. He will watch over you while I'm gone. Only speak German and Italian. No English."

"Alright... Lovino, my head hurts. I'm dizzy..." he muttered.

"That's enough," the Sheriff barked. He had returned with a set of cuffs for a hospital patient. "You let them plot enough, Booker. Feliciano Vargas, you are under arrest for felony assault and battery with a deadly weapon."

"You bastard! He's only been awake for two minutes, and you take that as your chance to arrest him? You heartless fucking bastard!" Lovino roared switching back to English.

Luna ignored Lovino and cuffed Feliciano's wrist to the rail of his bed. The older italian stood quickly and stepped towards the bed. Booked grabbed him roughly and pulled him towards the door.

"You have the right to an attorney..." the Sheriff continued.

Lovino yelled to his brother in Italian as he was pulled away. "Feli! Don't listen to them! Don't trust anyone but those trusted by Francis! Everyone is in league with the Russian!" And then he was out the door. While they tugged him further down the hall, he looked to Ludwig who stood there dumbfounded. Everything was happening too quickly for the German. "Watch him, Ludwig. Don't let those bastard hurt him. Guard him with your life."

The blonde man nodded and looked in on Feliciano. Lovino rounded the corner with the cops and headed back towards the waiting room. The receptionist eyed the Italian with contempt. He gave her the coldest of looks before scanning the rest of the room. Gilbert was watching from the sidelines while Francis was arrested. His face was shoved into the linoleum floor. Lovino assumed the bastard had resisted arrest. Lovino, however, did not see Antonio. Where had that Spanish bastard run off to? Did he evade arrest? Hell, did the police even know his name? Lovino doubted it. They couldn't have. As far as Lovino knew, Antonio had only been back for a short period of time before his goons nabbed him off of the streets. No one knew him except those from high school. The only person he could think of that posed any sort of threat was... the Russian... Ivan Braginski knew, and if the cops didn't find Antonio, then the Russian would...


	14. Seeking the Tomato Vine

((Sorry this took so long. I'm terrible at updating. Okay. So. Down to the nitty gritty. After this chapter, there will only be two more to follow. I think I'm going to end it in a satisfying way, but it _is_ about time I ended this. Hope you enjoy. Hopefully I'll finish quickly, too.))

Antonio was outside in the shadows getting fresh air. He needed to be away from all of the blinding lights and chaos that was the interior of the hospital. He needed a chance to breathe before Lovino got back from visiting his little brother.

Feliciano.

The few hours that had preceded that moment in time had been brutal. That poor boy was so hurt and broken, and Antonio couldn't help but feel that it was all his fault. He had distracted Lovino when he was supposed to be watching over Feliciano. He had tempted him with alcohol. He had clouded his thoughts with delusions of their past.

He couldn't help but wonder what could have changed. Should have gone along on this mission? Should none of them gone? Should Antonio just have remained in Spain? Lovino was doing fine before Antonio returned. He was good at his job from what the Spaniard had already seen. He had made a very secretive name for himself. He hadn't been on the Russian's radar, Francis had informed him. That is, he hadn't been until that night. It was Antonio's fault, he was sure of it. They shouldn't have spoken about the Russian that night. Someone must have heard. They should have kept their mouths shut. They should have paid more attention to Feliciano. Lovino was terrified of losing his brother, he could tell by the way he protected him. If Feliciano died that night, Antonio would only blame himself. Feliciano and Lovino could have handled themselves, but Lovino was too worried over the Spaniard. It wasn't as if Antonio couldn't take on a few Russians, either. He was more than capable of handling himself and a gun at the same time. Lovino didn't know... That had to be their downfall. He should have told him. If that was not the case, then Antonio's inability to think clearly when Lovino was around was. The real danger arose when he was around his beautiful Italian. With him, Antonio lowered all of his defenses. He didn't pay any mind or attention to the world around him. He trusted far too easily when his corazon was in front of him. After so many years away, Antonio could not get enough of Lovino. He was everything, but being near him was dangerous. The Spaniard couldn't keep himself in check, that much was obvious.

Antonio leaned beneath a tree, a tired expression reading through his eyes. He frowned and pulled a pack of cigarettes from the breast pocket of the blazer he was wearing. With it he also grabbed a lighter. He pulled one of the cigarettes from the pack and sighed. He had sworn to himself he'd quit ages ago, before he came back to Lovino, but that hadn't happened. They were too good a stress reliever. He looked to the ground and shook his head. He felt rather guilty about leaving Lovino in the first place...

 _Five years ago..._

 _That day was so difficult. With his grandmother waiting in the kitchen, he couldn't pack much of his things. He took the necessities from his bathroom, and a few gifts he couldn't part without. One of those was a journal with a flattened flower inside._

 _Lovino had given it to him on his birthday after they took an adventure in the downtown area of the city. They stopped at a cafe, and Antonio was surprised to see a room full of roses and cute things. Lovino had planned it all. They sat at the center of the cafe, and at their table was a single white daisy, the Spaniard's favorite. Antonio had put it in his hair after pinning a few of the curls back with two bobby pins. Lovino berated him about looking like a girl, but left the daisy in place. It had been in his journal since that night. The journal itself was another gift from Lovino. It was a black, leather bound book with a note in Lovino's chicken scratch writing. It was so simple, telling him happy birthday, but to Antonio, it was just another dash of that ever so rare affection from Lovino._

 _It was difficult to go into his bedroom to retrieve the journal. Lovino was sleeping on his bed, his breaths slow and soft. He was in a deep sleep. He crept into the room and gazed upon Lovino for a long, long while. He was leaving this bundle of perfection behind. But he could not focus on the sleeping boy... With a sigh, he snatched his journal from his bedside table. Beside the journal he had his was and a polaroid photo of his beloved Italian. He took that, too. Then there was a few pairs of clothes and his watch. When he opened his bedroom door to leave, it took his all not to look back._

 _His grandmother was sitting in the kitchen with Elizaveta when he returned. They were drinking tea and talking amicably. Antonio, on the other hand, was silent. He looked around the kitchen and took up paper and a pen. The words that went down on that sheet were heart wrenching to write._

 _It read:_

 _Dearest Lovino,_

 _I am leaving. As my duty to my family and as an honorable son, I must go. I am choosing them over love. They are my priority. Do not write me. Do not call. Do not try to make contact with me. I will not answer. I'm not doing this to hurt you, but rather to keep you safe. When I return to Spain, I will marry a lovely girl. Move on with your life. Forget about me, and I will do the same and forget about you._

 _Antonio Fernandez Carriedo_

 _He left that letter with Elizaveta, bid her a quiet, tear farewell, and left. The flight ahead of him was going to be along one..._

During the time of Antonio's absence, Lovino must have been devastated. he hadn't moved on as the Spaniard had hoped. He had only lost more and more. When Antonio came back, Lovino was only afraid of losing him again. When matters went from pleasant to deadly, rather than protect his little brother, lovino tried to protect Antonio. What Lovino did not understand was that Antonio didn't need protecting. Antonio never told him of his background with the military. He never mention that he could wield a gun. He never brought to conversation the fact that he was as swift as a rabbit. Maybe if he had, they would have succeeded. Maybe they would have successfully taken down the Russians. He didn't know.

Antonio sucked a drag off his cigarette. It was only the second one, but the cigarette was already long gone. It had burned out while he was reminiscing about his past. He snubbed the end out on the tree he had been leaning against and sighed. He needed to get back inside. Francis and Gilbert would be back with food soon enough. Just as he pushed himself off of the tree, he saw those stomach clenching, heart stopping, mind numbing red and blue lights.

The police.

Five cars pulled up, two officers a piece. They all wore bullet proof vests and had guns on their hips. They seemed determined and ready to enter the ER of a hospital, but something about them seemed off. They had drawn their weapons and were ready to enter the _hospital._ On what grounds and orders, though? Who in their right mind would send armed cops into an ER? And then it hit him. What better way could the Russian get back at Lovino. He's use the police force to separate Lovino from his dying brother. Take him away from Antonio, too. The Spaniard gritted his teeth. Those officers flooded inside.

The Russian sent them. Antonio had no doubt in his mind. He had killed of Aldrich Beilschmidt to take control of the police force. The officers were not there to help in any way, shape, or form. The Russian had taken control of everything. He had been powerful back in high school, and Antonio was sure he had claimed limitless reaches later on in life. Those cops didn't come on the call of the hospital. There were too many of them for that. They weren't going to question Lovino on what happened to his brother. No, they were there to arrest Lovino and Francis, Feliciano, too, if he was awake. Hell, Antonio had been shooting, too. They would want him as well.

There were charges piled against them. Francis had driven their getaway car. He had aided and abetted three criminals despite the fact that they were let free. He'd fight against the officers. Francis was not the type to go quietly. He was sure Lovino would not resist, though, just for Feliciano's sake. If the police were entering with weapon drawn, then they were prepared to shoot inside the hospital. They were going to capture their fugitives at all costs. Feliciano himself would be guarded until he died of woke from his comatose state. If he woke, and Antonio hoped to God that hid did, then he'd be arrested, too. They would not get to the Spaniard. Not yet. He would not allow it. It was necessary for him to avoid capture. A game plan needed to be created. He needed Gilbert and some other sort of back up. He could not wait for bail to be posted. There was no time. The Russian would not trust the police to hold Francis and Lovino. Those two were far too resourceful to remain behind bars for long. He'd take them as his own. Antonio could not wait for that to happen. He couldn't allow anything to happen to two people he cared about. Hell, he was mostly concerned for Lovino. He was taking matters into his own hands whether Lovino liked it or not.

Without an ounce of regret, Antonio turned on his heel and walked away from the hospital. He was abandoning Lovino again. There was a pain present as he turned his back on the one he loved, a pain that was present all of those years ago. He felt the guilt all over again. And like he did five years ago, Antonio never once looked back.

The pain in Antonio's chest had long since subsided and was replaced with worry. Worry and fear for the life of Lovino. He walked in the shadows of the streets, his head down and hidden beneath the hook of a sweatshirt. He had no idea where to go. He Had no idea how to get back to the mafia headquarters. The town he had lived in had changed so much he he had lived there five years previously. In that time away, it had taken such a turn. He saw the toll the two mafias took on the town. Some of the old shops were closed down. The ice rink he had taken Lovino to seemed to have closed its doors long ago. Their little cafe had been changed into a tobacco shop. The town have become a safe haven for thugs, criminals, drug lords, and the infamous Russian mafia. He had no doubt in his mind that the Russian started this all. Antonio kept walking down the streets, his green eyes scanning the faces of those around him. There were few recognizable ones. They were all scruffy, dirty faces. He knew no one. He couldn't even trust the police. There was no one to help him find Lovino.

Antonio walked at a slow rate through what used to be the main street of the town. His eyes scanned the buildings and fell upon an older one across the street. The old theatre was still there, but it had been changed. It was no longer used to show new films. Someone had bought it and changed the shows to entertainment dancing. It had become a strip joint for the lesser men that craved the sights. As he looked at the posters of girls that lined the walls of the exterior of the building where movie posters should have been, he found he was surprised to see someone he recognized. She had changed greatly; her hair was now many unnatural shades of grey and navy blue, but her green eyes, no matter how caned in makeup, were still the same. The Spaniard quickly crossed the street and viewed the line that had formed outside. It seemed that this place was popular tonight. The men and occasional woman were all in nice clothing. They were people of money. He still had on his slightly wrinkled dress clothes from earlier that night. They hadn't gotten any blood on them from carrying Feliciano. He had cleaned his skin at the hospital after most of the commotions died down. Aside from the hoodie he wore to cover his face, he was still fairly in tact. He could pass for someone of affluence. He removed the hoodie quickly and tossed it to a homeless man before stepping into line. He tousled his brown curls a bit and waited as the bouncers walked the line. He wasn't sure who owned this joint, but he had a feeling it was a certain large, blond man with violet eyes. He would prefer to stay away from this place, but the girl inside seemed important. She might hold some answers; that is, if she was still as resourceful as he remembered her to be.

The line moved quickly and Antonio was soon at the front of it. The bouncer didn't even give him a second glance before ushering him inside. The interior of the theatre had changed dramatically over the previous five years. Rather than a snack booth at the center, there was a large stage. It was dimly lit with neon lights and fog. A group of dancers were at the center of it all. He didn't bother to stay and watch. He moved on quickly, looking for the girl he needed to see. It was still set up like the old AMC theatres. Now, instead of movies showing in each room, there were 'entertainers' and 'performers'. He need to find that name... And there it was at the end of the hall. Antonio walked at a casual pacewith the rest of the crowd that was headed his way. He followed them into the dark room. The theatre seats had long since been removed and replaced with circular tables and chairs. Most by the front had already been filled with men eyeing the girl at the center stage. Antonio didn't care for what the girl was doing. The act didn't please him at all. He actually felt a little enraged. He had always been protective of the older girl, and watching her prance around a stage scantily clothed... He felt as though she was degrading herself. She had once been filled with such pride... Antonio couldn't watch her. He just _needed_ to speak with him...

The Spaniard sat down at a table by himself and waite. The girl stayed on stage, and Antonio and everyone around him watched. He was half tempted just to walk over to her, but he was sure he'd receive a hearty slap on the face in return. He sighed and looked ahead, attempting to catch her gaze. She was too occupied with entertaining the men in front. And by entertaining, he meant stripping even further until she was in her undergarments. He wretched and eyed everyone warily. He really wanted to punch the lights out of some of these creeps. Antonio was just about to yank the girl from the stage when he saw his opening. A group in the very front rose from their table to leave. Antonio stood and slid in that direction quickly. He took hold of the table before anyone else could. He sat front and center of the room. He stared at the girl, hoping to catch her green, makeup-caked eyes. While she danced, she came closer and closer to the crowd, closer and closer to Antonio. And then she was looking at him, a confused expression reading on her face. The look was gone just as quickly as it had appeared on her face. She was a professional, it seemed. She was back to her dancing, her eyes occasionally flickering towards Antonio. She seemed to have to make sure that the Spaniard was still there. Soon enough, her act was over and another girl replaced her on stage. She herself came into the crowd and sauntered her way over to Antonio in a seductive manner. She took his hand and led him from the room through an exit to the left of the stage. Antonio followed her willingly, his guard still raised. He had no idea if he could still trust the girl.

The female led him to a door that seemed to be her dressing room. Once inside, she shut the door and locked it. She turned to face him. It all happened so fast. He didn't realize she had slapped him until she was pacing in front of him, holding her stinging hand. He was reeling, bottom on the ground.

"You complete and utter ass, Antonio Carriedo!" she half shouted, half whispered.

Antonio scrambled to his feet and she slap him again, harder this time. He was prepared for it this time and took it like a man. He then held his hands in surrender. "Eliza calm down!"

"No. To you it is and always will be Elizaveta. Elizaveta Hédévary if I'm feeling particularly pissed off. Like right now! I am _very_ pissed off!" she hissed.

"Elizaveta, calm down. Please. I came to talk. I need help."

"Doing what? Winning Lovino back? You already broke that boy's heart once, Antonio."

"I know, but-"

"I know _why_ you left, but I thought you were doing something honorable for your family, not ripping out that poor kid from your life," she raged. "You couldn't even face him to say goodbye? You ripped out his heart in a motherfucking letter, Antonio!"

"I know, but-"

"You tell him not to write, not to call, note to make _contact_. He wrote you so many letters. He cried so much, but you weren't there for him to confide in. I was. I watched him cry, gave him hugs. You couldn't even answer the phone when I called to tell you Roma died? Aldrich? You just ignored them. You couldn't come for two weeks to go to their funerals? Those men did _everything_ for you. They loved you like their own son. They died within a week of each other. You couldn't stand in the back of the church during the service? You couldn't visit Gilbert? Your best friend was torn apart. _Our_ best friend. Feliciano. Ludwig. All of us. You abandoned everyone that loved you."

"No, wait-"

"Don't you _dare_ interrupt me, Carriedo. I am not finished yet. You do not speak until I allow you to," Elizaveta snapped. "We tried to get you back, but now here you are, five years later, on your own volition. You motherfucking bastard. You came back to win his heart, but knowing you, you're going to hurt him all over again. You'll hurt everyone." The female sat down on the couch nearest her. Antonio used her sudden silence to really look at her. She had changed over the years. Her hair, which used to be a beautiful, rich, light brown was now dyed black and silver. Her face was littered with little piercings. Her green eyes, however, remained exactly as they were; piercing and strong. Finally, after an extended period, Elizaveta finally spoke again. "You can go ahead and plead your case, but I'm not guaranteeing I'm going to help you..."

"I didn't come back to win him back. I came to protect him from Francis and Gilbert," Antonio muttered, a flush creeping along his cheeks.

"How could you protect him from them? They're the ones who have been keeping him and Feliciano alive for the last five damned years," Elizaveta snapped.

The Spaniard shrugged. "Would you do something if they threatened to have Heracles seduce Lovino?"

"They didn't..." she muttered.

"They did. But I came back because... Well. I missed him. Believe me, Eliza-"

"Elizaveta."

" _Elizaveta_ , I was going to come back and ask for his forgiveness, and if he wouldn't give it, I'd disappear from his life..."

"They why don't you? He obviously doesn't need you in his life."

The words coming from the Hungarian's mouth stung, but they were true. Lovino was better off than he had been in years. He was finally at the top of his game. He was a prominent figure within the mafia. He was a good informant. He was good all around. But Antonio had screwed that up, too. If he hadn't been there tonight, maybe... Just maybe Feliciano would be okay.

"You're right, he doesn't need me... But he made it clear that he wanted me. And I fucked up again."

"How the hell did you manage that? Did _you_ bang Heracles?"

"No..."

"Then what, Antonio? What could you have possibly done?"

"I distracted him. I made him worry about me when he should have been worrying for Feliciano," Antonio said. Elizaveta gave him a curious look as if to tell him to go on. "They infiltrated the Russian's bar tonight... They knew they were there, but I don't understand how. They must have recognized Feliciano's face... They shot him. He's comatose from the last I saw of him. And everyone else, Francis, Lovino. The Russian had them arrested, but I don't think the Russian took them to the jail, either. They too valuable for the police to handle... I don't know where the hell Gilbert is, but I'm assuming he's too incapacitated by police questions to get anything done. I didn't know what else to do, but I stay near the police, not when I have to do something to help them.."

"Oh my God..." she whispered. "He already has my Lily... He can not have Feliciano and Lovino, too. Hell, Francis is too important for this... I'll kill him, that damned Russian."

"I saw your picture outside. I knew you could help. You know people. You've got to..." Antonio sighed. "What are you even doing here in a place like this? You're so strong, so proud. This seems so beneath you. You're the last person I expected to see in a place like this, especially entertaining men."

"I'm working here to keep an eye on Lily. She works as a waitress in my room some nights. I don't trust those bastards around her. She's sweet and innocent. Sort of. They won't let her hook or strip or anything, but she's crafty. If she really wanted a spot on the stage, they'd let her. There's enough perverts who would pay to watch her. I worry about her... I don't even know how she got tangled up in this mess. She won't tell me," Elizaveta muttered, her head falling.

"You love her, don't you? You wouldn't do so much for any person otherwise..."

"She won't talk to me. She thinks I'm momming her, Toni. The Russian has his fingers woven deep into her life, and they're not letting go."

"It'll be okay, Eliza..." Antonio whispered, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Eliza, does the Russian own this place?"

"Yeah, he does, why?"

"I thought he did... I saw him earlier tonight, when we were in his bar-"

"You were _with_ them?" Elizaveta asked suddenly, her head shooting up from its sunken position.

"Yes, why?"

"Toni, you need to go. You have to get out of here. He already _knows_ you're here. He knows your face, Toni, and you're not safe. You need to get out of here," she hissed. "Being associated with the Italian Mafia is bad enough, but being present at the attack and being with the attackers? You need to _go_!"

"You need to help me find Lovino and Francis, Eliza. I can't just leave them to escape on their own. They'll be killed. _Lovino_ will be killed. Hell, I'm surprised he isn't already with the work he does. You have to help me. I don't know who else to go to."

"If you're lucky and clever, you won't have to find the Russian. He will find _you_ and bring you to him. He loves those games of cat and mouse. But if you're smart, which lately, I doubt you are, then you'll get your ass out of here and figure out a different plan. Honestly, Toni, go. Don't risk Lily's safety here. I'm barely managing as it is."

Antonio gave her a sad look and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. "I'm sorry, Eliza, but I can't sit and watch..." he whispered.

"I figured you say that..." she muttered.

Antonio tore away from her and opened her door. "Oh, Eliza, do me a favor? Get rid of the piercing. Go back to your natural color. I'm sure Lily will find you more alluring that way..."

The Spaniard slipped from her room, his mind in a whirl. He needed to find a way to get to Lovino, but she couldn't help. She had only told him that the Russian would find him. That wasn't smart at all. He couldn't allow the Russian to take him. His training back in Spain wouldn't allow it. He was resourceful, yes, but going blind into a situation such as this was reckless. All of his training went against such situations entirely. He had always been told to gather insight, but this time, there wasn't much to gather. He had no one to help him. Elizaveta could not. He had only himself and what he learned his training in Spain.

His training... Antonio became a soldier for the Spanish army a year after his return to Spain. There was no real reason for it. He just couldn't bear to think of Lovino anymore. His fiancée distracted him, yes, but he couldn't help but feel he was betraying both her and Lovino with the love he held for the younger boy. He never kissed her for too long. He never touched her inappropriately. He was a perfect gentleman, in fact, at times, too perfect. He only put off their wedding by joining the military. He told her he wanted to protect her, and in a way, he was. He was protecting her from the shame and humiliation he'd surely bring. In the military, with his hair cropped short and the strict rules, Antonio changed. He wasn't so much the carefree boy he had been. He'd gotten another dose of reality. He learned to shoot accurately enough to kill. He learned to abandon the childish notions that everyone could be saved. He hardened himself into a man. He matured, and with that maturation, he learned that he could not live with someone he did not love. He realized this out in the field.

Antonio was taught to get himself out of crazy situations, but that training only went so far. That training wasn't entirely accurate, either. They could only prepare him for so much, and even that couldn't have prepared him for the real deal. His instructors told him that he needed to avoid tricky situations at all costs, but sometimes it was impossible.

The Spaniard was working undercover for a local drug lord. It had all be going good. He had been sending back information to his superiors for months, but it had all ended when he was tracked back to the military base by someone who never trusted him. He had been found out and he couldn't get out when he returned to the base of the drug lord's operation the following day. They had beaten him bloody, broken his right arm and most of the fingers on his left hand. They wanted information out of him, but he denied them. In the end, they had opted to kill him. He was in so much pain that he nearly let them. Of course, in the end, Antonio managed to escape. Breaking his thumb had been idiotic. He allowed him to slip through his binds easily. He made it back to the military safely. He was then honorably discharged for his service.

It was in that situation that he realized that he could not die without seeing Lovino one last time. It took him another three years and one utterly convincing video from his best friends to force him back, but he made it. His fiancée understood. She figured something was off about him from day one. That insight didn't allow her any less pain. His near-death experience made him realize that he needed Lovino. Antonio was sure he still did.

Still, out of all of the things the military taught Antonio, the most important seemed to be the avoidance of any situation where one went in blind. He was following no such rules tonight. He was tossing all rational decision out the door. Antonio looked back at Elizaveta's dressing room briefly and walked away. He didn't look back. He let his feet rather than his instincts guide him. Every instinct told him to make a plan, to avoid going in blind. He ignored them. Every instinct he had told him to avoid the Russians at all cost, but his heart said otherwise. He slipped out one of the back exits of the building and into the alley, As if on cue, he was attacked. A black bag was thrown over his head. A blunt object cracked roughly against the back of his skull. He remembered being dragged off, into a van maybe, and then everything faded to black.


	15. Aru

((**WARNING**: Sexual assault))

Antonio woke with a skull-splitting ache at the base of his head. His world was spinning although he could see nothing but darkness and little patches of faint light. Maybe he was still seeing stars. He had no idea of what was going on around him. He was too disoriented, too confused. He couldn't remember what he had been doing prior to this. He had no recollection. All he remembered was being hit on the head. And now he was here, wherever here was. There was a tightness around his wrists that he didn't remember being there. Further inspection told him that he was tied to something, most likely a chair. God. This was all so familiar to him. That throbbing at the back of his head. The black bag over his head. It all reminded him of his friends. They had done this to him only days prior. They had picked him up off the streets, scared the living hell of him. They had kidnapped him. This was so reminiscent of that situation with the two other members of the Bad-Touch Trio. What had landed him there?

And then it hit him.

The Russian.

Antonio was trying to find the Russian. Well, it seemed that the Russian had found him. He found him and kidnapped him. For the second time. First his friends and now some crazy man in a trench coat. Nothing could make this worse. This was a much less friendly ground of people. _The Russians_. Antonio blinked back the pain that had seemed to reach his green eyes, but was met with patchy, yet continuous blackness. He couldn't gain any insight to where he was, but he assumed that the owner of the footsteps that were steadily growing louder would reveal his location to him sooner or later. A door to his left opened, and those footsteps came into the room. Someone had walked into the room. They shut the door with a soft click.

Suddenly, a dim yet blinding light suddenly filled Antonio's pupils. Whatever had been covering his head and block his view had been removed. He was met with bright, iridescent lights. A heavily accented voice spoke.

"It has been a long while since I have seen you, ja?" a male asked.

Antonio said nothing, attempting to focus his eyes to the sudden change in light.

"High school, I believe. It took me a moment to figure out after you left with your Italian... So, I decided prove a further point to the both of you, mainly you," Ivan Braginski said, a small trace of his accent hidden in his words. "You did strike back against my men. You have proven yourself to be a threat. I need to put your in your place to ensure that you do not disobey my rules or cross me again."

Antonio eyed the Russian icily. He seemed smug with his violet eyes and tall frame. "What could you take from me? I have nothing," the Spaniard said cooly.

"I beg to differ. You have a very vulnerable Italian in the next room over..." he said with a motion of his hand.

There was a window that looked onto something entirely dark. He assumed it had a view into the other room. A light flipped on, probably at the command of the Russian, and what Antonio saw made his heart skip a couple of beats. His stomach dropped and the air around his seemed to turn to ice. Suspended from the ceiling by his wrists was Lovino. The tips of his dress shoes barely scraped the ground. A black bag may have covered his head, but he could tell it was Lovino by the tattoos that covered his arms. He may have only studied them for a short period of time, but he could tell immediately who those weight strained, inked arms belonged to. His dress shirt had disappeared before he was strung up, leaving his chest open and revealed. Antonio could see some of the faint scars that littered his chest from his sophomore year. One of the Russian's men stood in the room with Lovino. He removed the bag from Lovino's head a few moments after the lights were turned on. The Italian seemed confused and disoriented, but his face quickly became cold and expressionless.

"Your little _Lovi_ has learned once. This lesson is not only for you, but it will prove useful in making him stay put. He will not be seeking revenge on me anytime soon."

"Stop this. Leave him the hell alone. You've already murdered his brother," Antonio. The words stung. Feliciano, dead. Happy, smiling Feliciano, but it had to be true. "Just leave him alone. What has he got to do with you and me?"

"He had everything to do with you and me. He's the only leverage I have over you. Sure, losing your friends would be depressing, but what I will do to Mr. Vargas... That will break you. You won't step out of line, and I know it. If you do, a bullet will take care of you," Ivan said calmly. There was so much malice behind his words. Antonio felt dread wash over him as he waited for the tall blond to continue. "I'm going to torture him in front of you. You will watch, but he won't know you're there, not until the end at least. He will only see a reflection of himself and me. I, on the other hand, I want to see every one of his expression and reactions as I-"

"Don't you _dare_ touch him."

"I do as I please. I take what. I. Please. You are nothing to me, just a small bug to crush under my boot. The power I hold over you is what matters. I hold all of the cards in this game. You will lose."

"Stay the hell away from him, you piece of shit..." Antonio hissed as the Russian walked towards the door.

"Oh. By the way. Don't bother yelling. He cannot hear you. You will hear him. You will hear every agonizing noise that escapes his young lips. Have fun, my new acquaintance, Antonio," he said as parting words. And then he left. Two of his men entered after him. They stood in front of the door, an attempt to keep him in, but he paid no attention to them. He was far too focused on the Russian that was entering the same room as his beloved Italian. Antonio's entire body tensed. His blood boiled. His fingers clenched into fists until his knuckles were white. He could feel the cuffs that bound him cutting into his skin. With Lovino so conveniently restrained, he figured he knew what the Russian had in mind. After tonight, if Antonio had no say in the matter, the younger male would bear more scars on his body to add to those he had obtained all those years ago. When the Russian spoke, Antonio went numb. His fingers fell slack. He could not believe what he was hearing, but then again, only the Russian would stoop so low. Only the Russian would get away with it. Only the Russian would go undetected.

"He's not coming, Carriedo. He won't be joining us. He's dead. He was sitting in my strip club and I put a bullet through his skull. Right between his eyes while he was watching my girls dance," Braginski said.

"You're lying," Lovino said in a monotone.

"I'm sure his body is still in the alley where I disposed of it. You are welcome to check once I'm finished with you, if you don't believe me."

"That bastard may be stupid, but he's not suicidal. He wouldn't go into one of your clubs."

"He would if he thought he'd be safe. He thought I wouldn't attack in a crowd of people in a dark room. So naïve."

"You're lying!" Lovino yelled.

Antonio cringed. He was sure he could see the belief flickering in his Italian's amber eyes. _No!_ His poor Lovino! He was going to suffer so much...

While Lovino looked at him, the Russian pulled something from his pocket of his trenchcoat. From its shape, Antonio could assume that it was a photograph. "He came to visit one of my show girls. Elizaveta. A pretty thing. I took care of him while he watched."

Lovino stared at the image in disbelief. _God, was he believing this?_ Antonio cringed at the thought. All of the walls he had broken through to get this far with Lovino... The boy's heart must have shattered. Antonio felt so numb, but evidently not as much as Lovino did. His entire body seemed to sink. He stopped trying to hold himself up, stopped trying to stand. His head fell and he let his body hang limply.

"You took my brother first... And now you take him? What else do I have that you could want from me?"

Lovino seemed so heart broken. Antonio ached just seeing it. Oh God... Lovino. The Spaniard wanted so badly to comfort him and console him. He wanted to show the Italian that he was alive, that he wasn't going anywhere. But with his confines, it seemed impossible. This wasn't like in Spain. He had yet to see any means of escape that he could use.

"Your body," Ivan said.

And that's when Antonio cracked. Up until then, it had all been talk. Braginski had tortured Lovino with his words, his lies. He hadn't shown any signs of actually harming Lovino. But now... It all made sense. The Russian wanted to break Antonio and Lovino at the same time, and the only way to do it was to... Sexually humiliate the younger male. Antonio scoffed. That Russian bastard was hitting where it hurt most, surely. He was smart, but the Spaniard would not accept this. He would have reacted the same the instant the bitch had pulled a knife, but he hadn't. He only had his hands. His hands that would soon be all over Lovino's body if Antonio couldn't help him. Antonio was no longer in his dazed, lost state. He was alert and ready. He'd get out. He had to. That Russian bitch would _not_ touch his corazon. Braginski would _not_ violate his beloved. That boy... No, that man had already suffered enough at the hands of the Russian.

Antonio was using all of his strength to break free of his bonds. He made no progress. He only added to cuts and abrasions along his wrists. The arms of the chair creaked, but they did not budge. It was certainly a poorly made chair, though, probably made in China, he thought. If he could be fast enough maybe he could get up and around this thing. He could use it as a weapon to help him. His guards didn't watch him. They were too concerned with what was going on in the next room over. Antonio didn't look. He didn't need any blind rage flooding his veins. Looking at the Russian and Lovino would only fuel that fury that was already coursing through him. Antonio looked at his guards for a moment longer. Their attention was completely and entirely averted. It was as if they'd forgotten about him. Honestly, with how quiet he had been, they probably had. Antonio slowly stood, careful not to make too much noise. He had just enough room to put his left foot on the chair. Sweat dripped down onto his brow as he stood on the seat first with his left and then with his right. The guards had yet to notice him. He swallowed and took a deep breath before shift his weight and his right foot against the back of the chair to tip it.

And with that all hell broke loose inside of his holding cell. Antonio had the chair in his hands immediately following its fall. He swung it easily at the first of the two Russians that came at him. The man man fell and the chair shattered in Antonio's hands. Now he had some sort of weapon. But these guys still trumped him. They had guns. Of course, Antonio thought that was cheating seeing as how he didn't have one of his own, but what could he do? The guy on the ground was too stunned and shell shocked to reach for his own gun, so Antonio had to take it. And that he did. The Spaniard leapt for the man on the ground, wrestling his gun from his hip. He managed to pry it from him before he realized what was happened. Then Antonio was on his feet again, the gun pointed at the guard who has his own weapon ready and aimed.

"I can shoot you just as fast as you can shoot me," Antonio said. "So you can either step aside, or I can shoot your friend. And trust me, I'm a damn good shot."

"Eduard, don't you do anything stupid that you'll regret like, I don't know, pissing off the crazy Spanish man with the gun?" the man on the ground said.

"I'm not trying to, Toris. Now, shut the fuck up. You'll just piss him off," said the man named Eduard.*

Those names seemed so vaguely familiar... He had heard them somewhere before a long time ago. Antonio looked at them both, scrutinizing their features. Eduard had glasses and short cropped hair while Toris had long mousy brown hair that reached his shoulders. They were so oddly familiar to him. And then he realized. These were two of the Russian's friends from back in high school. They were the ones that always stayed right behind him. Eduard, who obviously held more control than Toris due to the weapon in his hand, was always good with computers in High School. He had probably become some sort of hacker for Braginski. Toris, on the other hand, seemed shy and weak. Why the Russian had trust _them_ to guard him was beyond him. He assumed their trust must have went back long enough. Braginski would probably have their ass later, though.

"Look. I'm growing impatient here, and believe me. Shooting you is the last thing I want to do, but I have a rather big problem to deal with and my associate over there is a bit too _tied up_ with your boss to help. So," Antonio said, his voice lowering to a growl, "Step your asses aside."

Eduard and Toris looked between themselves for a while. Neither moved, and honestly, Antonio figured they were both too petrified to even think of a coherent answer. His patience was waning to a rather thin, thin line. And that's when he heard it. A strangled noise from Lovino. Antonio's emerald eyes flicked in the direction of the room.

"Oh Dios mío..." the Spaniard whispered.**

The Russian had overstepped his bounds. He was _touching_ Lovino.

Toris took his moment. Antonio was too distracted to see him coming. He had let his guard down for a second too long. Toris was off of the ground and ready to attack.

Lovino had no idea how long he had been sitting in this room. It had been ages since he had been visited, an hour at least. His arms ached from the strain of supporting his body. His wrists burned from the metal of the cuffs that bound him, digging deeper and deeper. The tips of his dark brown oxfords barely scraped the ground enough to allow him to stand. Being short often left him at a disability in times such as these. And, he was cold. The Italian had been carted off here - wherever here was - after he had been arrested by the Russian's cops. They had shoved him into the backseat of a police cruiser, and after a block or so, he was transferred into a black SUV where they bagged his head and left him in the dark. That drive had so many twists and turns. It was too disorienting to try and decipher where these bastards were driving. According to the sound of everything around him, it seemed like they were near the harbor of the area. He could hear fog horns off in the distance. The docks had to be nearby. Leave it to the Russian to choose a cliché spot to locate his mafia. By the time these bastards had gotten to their destination, Lovino figured they were in some underground garage; he could hear doors slamming around him and echoing off into the distance. The Russian seriously had some entourage with whatever he did even if he himself was not physically present. He was ushered out of the SUV and literally dragged through endless halls. There were so many doors and stairs. The Russian's on either side of him didn't allow him the pleasure of walking. He would have stumbled too much anyways. They paid him no mind as they dragged him throughout their compound. The Italian had no idea where they were going until they reached their destination. It was a small, cold room. It wouldn't have been as cold if they hadn't of stripped him of the garments that covered the upper portion of his body. They took his shirt, jacket, and tie. They had even taken the white t-shirt he had worn under his buttondown. For what purpose, he had no idea. It could have been their sick version of torture. This cold was nothing to Lovino. He had felt worse. Still, it was uncomfortable. He was strung up by his wrists to the ceiling just before they left. This was where he sat. No one had come in for the longest. He was cold, bored, and had nothing to do. He was left to his thoughts. And his thoughts were filled with worry...

Worry about that bastard Antonio that had disappeared just before he was arrested. He hadn't seen him since before he had gone to see Feliciano. He had stayed in the waiting room while he had gone to see his brother. The Spaniard had disappeared when things had gone awry. He hadn't been caught, Lovino assumed. He hadn't seen him while Francis was arrested. He was just missing. Plus, that bastard was slick enough to evade arrest by a few of the corrupt local cops. Lovino saw the way that bastard handled a gun. He was an idiot, but he was still smart enough to stay away from flashing red light, especially after the night they had had. The thought of Antonio coming to save him like a knight in shining armor crossed his mind, but that was just wishful thinking. The bastard couldn't have enough skill. Maybe he had had some sort of training back in Spain, but that made him no special operative. And a special operative couldn't make it through all of the Russian's defenses. He was sure he had been dragged through a number of key card and password protected doors. There had to be guards stationed at each. There was no way anyone unauthorized would make it through the door to the room where he was left.

Nobody but authorized personnel. And that was exactly who walked through. He heard the flip of a lightswitch. Lovino could see a bit of light through the threads of the black bag that covered his head. He didn't know who was moving towards him, but he wouldn't give any sort of satisfaction to the person by trying to escape. He stayed completely still. A few moments later, the bag was removed from his head. The light that filled his amber eyes was blinding. It was harsh and bright. Fluorescent. He blinked a few time and squinted into the brightness. God, it was disorienting, but soon after, he was able to resume his cold demeanor. He stared at the Russian's lackey that had entered. He recognized him vaguely as Raivis Galante, one of Braginski's cronies from high school.*** He was someone Lovino had researched briefly when he had first joined the mafia. Because of Braginski's influence over him, Galante had joined the Russian mafia along with his two friends Toris and Eduard. They had once been good kids, but Braginski had managed to taint them like he had so many others.

After a few moments of watching Raivis warily, Lovino averted his eyes. He took a quick scan of the room. To his left there was a large mirror that spanned a good portion of the wall. He assumed it was a two-way mirror. Someone on the other side was watching him. He could have bet money that it was the Russian. Braginski was sick like that. He may have loved Yao Wang, but that bastard had a sick sense of humor sometimes. Watching one of his prisoners would fall into the category of things he found funny.

Lovino looked briefly above him at where his hands were bound. The chain of the cuffs was looped through a circular hook in the ceiling. There was no gap to allow the chain to slide off. He knew he'd never be able to escape these binds. He didn't have a hair pin. He didn't have any ground leverage. Hell, he could barely reach the ground. As far as he could tell, there was no way he was getting loose anytime soon.

And then the door opened again. Raivis exited and what came next was not what he wanted. It was a face he recognized all too well, one that he hadn't desired to see again for quite some time. Lovino's anger spiked, but he managed to keep the rage from reaching his face. He couldn't let Ivan Braginski know how he affected him. After nearly killing Feliciano and Grandpa, Lovino wanted nothing more than to kill the man. In his current situation, that wouldn't happen. The Russian would only take joy in his reactions. Lovino kept his face completely neutral.

"He's not coming, Carriedo. He won't be joining us," Braginski said. So Antonio had evaded arrest. He felt so much relief in those words. And then it was shattered. "He's dead. He was sitting in my strip club and I put a bullet through his skull." There was a sudden existential dread that flooded through Lovino that he hid from his face so well. He had learned to hide those emotions a long time ago. Antonio was dead. The Russian had gotten to him. Time seemed to slow. He didn't want to listen to Braginski speak anymore, but he listened on. "Right between his eyes while he was watching my girls dance."

Antonio had abandoned him to watch strippers. He did the only thing he knew to when it came to the Spaniard. He denied every accusation in a monotone like he had for the last five years. "You're lying."

"I'm sure his body is still in the alley where I disposed of it," Braginski said. Those images flashed through Lovino's mind. Antonio's cold, lifeless body in an alley, left alone... He died alone... "You are welcome to check once I'm finished with you, if you don't believe me."

Again, Lovino denied everything the Russian said. He had to think positively. He had to believe Antonio was alive. "That bastard may be stupid, but he's not suicidal. He wouldn't go into one of your clubs."

"He would if he thought he'd be safe. He thought I wouldn't attack in a crowd of people in a dark room. So naïve."

And then the Italian cracked. He had thought that once, too. That the Russian wouldn't attack in a crowd of people. Yet, he shot Feliciano. He had attacked in a room of people, not caring if there were civilians in the room. "You're lying!" Lovino yelled.

Braginski reached into the pocket of his long, tan trenchcoat and pulled out a flat object. From the way it shined under the fluorescent lights, he could tell it was a photograph. Lovino looked at it for a few moments. It was of a dark room, but more so of a man. A man with curly hair. It was a shot of him from behind. He watched a pretty girl dance on stage. Both people were familiar. The man was his stupid, idiot of a Spaniard. The other, he recognized as well. That's when the Russian's lie fell apart. His next words proved everything he had already said to be false. "He came to visit one of my show girls. Elizaveta. A pretty thing. I took care of him while he watched."

Lovino stared at the image in mock disbelief. In reality, a look of knowing relief flashed briefly across his features. Elizaveta had been at the Russian's club for the last three years. Once Lily had joined his ranks, Elizaveta followed to protect her and to spy for her employers. She was by no means working for the blond giant. She was watching on him and making sure Lily stayed as far away from trouble as she possibly could. Antonio must have seen her picture on one of those posters outside of the club. He must of gone for help. Antonio wouldn't have let his guard down in such a place, especially if he wasn't really watching. He would have had a weapon on his, hopefully. Elizaveta would have gotten him to safety as soon as she saw him, he hoped. Lovino knew that the Russian was lying, or at least not telling the entire truth. Antonio could still be dead, but because of Elizaveta's skill, he could still be alive. The Russian didn't kill unless he had a reason to, unless there was a personal gain. There was no gain by killing Antonio. Still, Lovino had to play along to Ivan's game. He had to act like his world had shattered. And act he did. His entire body seemed to sink. He stopped trying to hold himself up, stopped trying to stand. His head fell and he let his body hang limply against the metal of his cuffs. When he spoke again, he spoke his a lost, sad tone.

"You took my brother first... And now you take him? What else do I have that you could want from me?"

Lovino thought he played his part pretty well. He was sure he could fool this bastard long enough for someone out of the Italian mafia to come and retrieve him. Maybe. That is if they weren't dense fools... Which many of them were...

"Your body," the Russian said.

Lovino's head shot up from its limp position. His body went rigid. Ivan Braginski had just suggested... Just _said_ he _wanted_ Lovino. He was sure there was no romantic interest here. He was positive of that. This was for his own personal gain. He was trying to break Lovino, and to do that, he had to do something unspeakable. Being touched wouldn't have bothered him under normal circumstances. He would have written it off as rape and gotten over it. But this was no normal circumstance. Antonio was in the other room behind the mirror, and he was watching.

"Get away from me," Lovino said in a cold voice. "You're a sadistic fuck, Braginski. Get the hell away from me."

"I don't think so, polkovnik. I'm not going anywhere. Now that your Spanish whore is dead, you're mine, and I intend to break you. Tell me. How loud did your whore make you scream? I can guarantee I can make you louder," Ivan said, taking off his tan trench coat slowly. The Russian had so much bulk and muscle beneath his coat. If Lovino didn't hate the man so much, he might have thought he was attractive. Now... All that muscle and build made him retch. He wanted nothing to do with Ivan. He just wanted him to go.

"You don't need to break me. You have Wang," Lovino said in that same cold tone. "And he was not a whore by any standards. Don't you _dare_ call him that..."

Braginski's face fell and went from jovial to menacing in all of two seconds flat. "Yao doesn't concern you, not after he was broken by your bullet. Nothing you say or do will reverse the damage you've done. Nothing you offer will measure up to forgiveness. Not even this," the Russian said, slipping behind Lovino.

The male suddenly let his large hand fall onto Lovino's genitals. The Italian let out a strangled cry. He hadn't meant to. Ivan had just surprised him. This man's hand was only separated from his manly assets by a thin layer of fabric. The Italian swallowed, biting back any shakiness in his words.

"Get your hand off of me, bastard," Lovino hissed, trying to pull as much venom into his voice as he possibly could. In reality, he was terrified.

"No, I don't think I will. I enjoy seeing your reactions. They're pleasantly enticing. Are you scared I will hurt you?" Braginski asked, unbuttoning Lovino's dress pants.

The Italian's answer was yes. Yes he was afraid that the Russian would hurt him. In more ways than one, too. He was afraid that he'd be hurt physically, that he'd be brought pain. But he was also afraid of the psychological hurt that this man's molestation would bring, but like usual, Lovino never voiced his feelings.

"No. You're just a sadistic fuck looking to get it on with a man who doesn't want you. You're desperate," he said.

"No. I'm not. I have all I could ever want," the Russian said.

"Not with Wang down for the count. He's entirely off limits, and you're pissed about it."

The Russian chuckled. Chuckling was bad. Chuckling was always bad when it came to this guy. Lovino felt the payback coming for the words he had carelessly allowed to slip from his lips. And it did. Braginski's large fingers pushed past the hem of Lovino's boxers. The Italian swallowed and closed his eyes. He didn't want to watch the man's hand intrude on his privacy any further. When Braginski's hand wrapped around his genitals, another small, strangled noise escaped Lovino's lips. His fingers curled into fists. His heart beat rapidly. This is not what he wanted. He didn't want this Russian doing this to him. If it were Antonio, he'd accept it, but the Spanish bastard was locked in the next room over and he could do nothing to help him.

The door slammed open, and Lovino looked in the direction of it. In the doorway stood a very pissed looking Spaniard.

"Let him go, Braginski," Antonio said, his green eyes lit with rage. Cuffs dangled from his wrists. He had recently escaped, that much the Italian could tell.

Lovino looked at Antonio with so much relief. That bastard had actually come to rescue him. He was also flooded with embarrassment. The Russian's hand was literally in his pants.

"I don't think I will. And seeing as how I can so easily hurt him, I wouldn't step closer..." Ivan said. Lovino could literally hear the smile in his words. This bastard was a sadist.

"If you hurt him, I will kill you, Braginski..." the Spaniard said. "God so help you if you hurt him. This isn't one of your sick, twisted games. You've had your fun. Now let him go before I have to make you. And if that happens, you will rue the moment you thought to lay a single finger on him, do you understand me?"

For one brief, bone chilling moment, Lovino believed him. Lovino believed for the first time in his life that the man he loved was capable of killing. In the time that Lovino had known Antonio, the bastard had only ever once seemed as menacing as he did now. It was when Lovino had been attacked. The Spaniard had that same dark look in his eyes, and the Italian felt an ounce of fear bubble in him once more. It wasn't fear for him; it was fear for Ivan Braginski. That poor bastard didn't know what was coming to him. If someone didn't stop him, Antonio was surely going to crack.

"Your words do not scare me, you whore. Go back to your fiance in Spain," the Russian said.

"How the hell do you know about that?" Antonio asked in a monotone.

"I know how to get information, Carriedo, especially with Eduard's skills."

Eduard. Lovino recognized that name. It was another one of Braginski's friends from high school. The Italian mafia knew him as a top notch hacker that rivaled even some of Matthew's skills.

"Let him go Braginski," Antonio said, taking a step forward.

The Russian's hand tightened around Lovino's genitals and he cringed. "Yeah, not a good time to be making demands, Antonio, you fucking bastard."

Antonio's gaze hardened as he pulled something from his waistband. It was a gun. "Let him go Braginski." Lovino didn't doubt for a second that Antonio would pull that trigger. That bastard was pissed, and Ivan was in trouble.

Lucky for the Russian, help came.

"Ivan!" a voice said, speaking the name in the Russian way. "What the hell are you doing?"

Almost immediately, the Russian removed his hand from the Italian's pants. Lovino breathed a sigh of relief and looked to the space in the door where Antonio had once been. The Spaniard had moved aside to reveal Yao Wang.

"Y-Yao," the Russian stammered. This was the first time Lovino had ever seen that man stumble for words. "You are hurt. What are you doing out of bed?"

"Eduard came tearing into my room. He said you brought Carriedo here and he knocked Toris out cold. I could only figure what was going on, but this?" Wang ridiculed. "Haven't you had enough? Aru."

"Yao, you need to go back to bed," Braginski said.

Lovino watched them both with interest as Antonio inched near him. The Spaniard came close enough to him to zipper and button his pants. Lovino gave him a sardonic glare before shifting his focus back to Wang and Braginski.

"I'm tired, Ivan," Wang said.

"Then you need to go to bed. Come, I'll take you," Braginski replied.

"No, I'm not physically tired. I'm mentally tired. Of all of this shit. Aru," Wang yelled. He was getting flustered, but he still held his ground. At least sort of. He leaned against the doorframe to avoid putting any weight on his injured leg. " _This_ isn't what I wanted. I didn't _want_ all of this power, this money. I didn't want all of this killing. I didn't want to feel all of this guilt. I don't want to worry each time you leave. I don't want to sit there alone, wondering if you'll come back at the end of the night. I just wanted you, and it's pretty damn obvious you don't want that with me. Aru."

"Yao, I love you. What are you saying?" Ivan asked. Lovino could hear the hurt his voice.

"I'm saying, aru," Wang started. "That this isn't something I expected of you. You tell me you love me, yet you do this to Vargas over there? What? For shooting me? It's a flesh wound, it won't kill me. But you go ahead and try to kill his brother. Ivan. You take things too far. And the little Swiss girl? You roped threatened to kill her brother so she'd come work for you. Just to make Vargas hurt. You already had his grandfather killed. What more do you want from him? Can't you just stop? God, Ivan, aru. If you don't, aru, if you can't just control yourself, aru, then I'm going to have to force control on you."

"Yao-"

"No, Ivan. If you can't get ahold of yourself and stop this madness, then I'm leaving, and I'm not coming back."

The Russian was at a loss for words. That was another first. Tonight was filled with a load of firsts for Lovino. He was started to become overwhelmed.

"Okay," Braginski finally said after a long pause.

"See, you- Wait, what?" Wang asked.

"I said 'okay'. I'll stop. We can leave this place. We can go to Russia or China or wherever you want..." Ivan said, his voice cracking. "Just don't leave me."

Wang gave a relieved sigh. Lovino did too. If the Russian was leaving... Then... Maybe things would be okay around here, in his little town. He, however, did not get his hopes high. Things never went the way they were planned.

"Let's go, Yao.. You need rest," Braginski said, heading for the door. As he did, he stopped in front of Antonio. He watched him place something in the Spaniards hand before saying, "You will have clearance to leave. My guards will not stop you. Your friends will be let go. Goodbye."

And with that they left. The Russian just up and left. Everything was over. The door shut softly behind Wang and Braginski, leaving the Italian and the Spaniard alone. Antonio immediately turned to Lovino and kissed him hungrily.

"Oh Dios mío..." Antonio whispered. "That scared the hell out of me... I'm so sorry, Lovino. I will never ever let that happen to you again..."

Lovino bit back one of his usual sarcastic responses. "Just get me down from here, please, Antonio. And take me home..."

Antonio complied. It turned out the Russian had provided him with a key. He unlocked the cuffs around Lovino's wrists quickly. The Italian, once on the ground, managed to stand on shaking legs. His wrists were cut and chaffed from his binds, but it was something he could deal with later. For now he wanted sleep. He wanted to lay down and feel safe. For the first time in years, he wanted to let his guard down. He wanted someone else to protect him. Antonio seemed to know his thoughts. He lifted Lovino from his feet and carried him in his arms through the Russian's compound. Somewhere along the way, Lovino felt himself drifting off. He was tired and emotionally exhausted. He was ready to greet sleep, but it was never to be. There was something different about falling asleep compared to the times he had fallen unconscious. Like out in the waves, it hit him. He never did know when he was falling asleep. It just hit him, and in Antonio's warm, protective embrace, it came so easily.

((*Eduard = Estonia, Toris = Lithuania

**Oh Dios mío = Oh my God.

***Raivis Galante = Latvia))


	16. Epilogue

'Clothes'.

That's what the final box Lovino had to label said. He was moving. They all were. Ludwig and Feliciano had gotten an apartment a few states away. Lovino and Antonio were following. They'd be within walking distance of each other. But they'd be far from here... Lovino took up a roll of packing tape and sealed the box shut. He'd been doing it all night, packing away the things that marked his childhood, his past. He couldn't sleep. Not in this house filled with sorrow. He just had to finish boxing it up. He had thrown away a lot, but he managed to keep a lot, too. His guitar. Grandpa's war medals and guns. His old uniform. They were already packed away into the back of his pickup truck. This was the last one he had to carry out, the last one in this old house. All that remained were the walls and a mattress on the floor in the bedroom where they had been sleeping. Lovino had attempted sleep, at least.

Lovino stood and took the box into his arms. They'd been packing for the last week or so, trying to get all of their things cleared away. They had already emptied Antonio's apartment and the former Italian mafia headquarters. With the dissolution of the Russian's reign, the Italian mafia had disbanded. The compound had been cleared out on Francis' command. He, too, was leaving with Matthew. Everyone was. Gilbert and Roderich, Vash, Lily, and Elizaveta, Alfred and Arthur. They were falling away from this life to start something better. Lovino wanted it, too. That's why he was leaving this placed. He needed something better, something normal. He felt that in his home with Antonio he'd have just that.

Lovino walked with his box out the open front doo. His truck sat out front in the still, hazy morning. And so did someone else, smoking a cigarette. That someone looked familiar. He was familiar. Antonio. The Spaniard snubbed out whatever was left of his cigarette on the sidewalk and walked over to Lovino. He took the box and smiled a weary smile.

"You couldn't sleep either?" Lovino asked quietly.

"Not without you there..." Antonio replied.

"I'm sorry. It's just this house..." Lovino turned to look at the building behind him.

It was Grandpa's old house, the house where he had spent his childhood. He had so many memories there. He had been assaulted by the Bad Touch Trio when they wanted to go to a gay bar. He had a wonderful kiss in the kitchen. There was an interesting game of cards in the livingroom. He had watched Grandpa, one of the strongest and bravest men he knew, die at the dining room table. There was a lot of happiness and sorrow, but it was time to go, time to move on. Grandpa wouldn't have wanted to see Lovino stuck in this dusty house, stuck in his past. He would have wanted him to move on, to be happy. With Antonio, wherever he went would be.

He just couldn't tell the bastard that...

Lovino watched Antonio place the last box in the back of his truck before they both went inside to grab the mattress. They lugged the thing outside and placed it in the moving truck that was parked in front of his own truck. Everything was packed now. Nothing remained. Only the dust and the walls and the windows, ceilings, and floors. Did Lovino regret leaving it behind? Not one bit.

There were so many options for Lovino out there. With his skill set and with his ability to learn, he'd find something. There was only one person he wanted to spend those years with. Only one person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. With so many changes coming at once, Lovino needed someone as his anchor. He was glad to have Antonio.

The sun was starting to rise as the pair got into Lovino's truck. Antonio took the driver's seat. Lovino was content taking the spot beside him. It gave him more time to study that wonderful man's features, to drink in everything that was him. The sun was rising high in the sky, and they were driving away, driving away to new experiences. Finally, after years of many lovely wounds, they were moving on, and the sun was there to greet them.

The end.

((Okay guys, it's been two long years. I think. I honestly can't remember when I started this. I've had a lot of time to think about the ending, and that is why I haven't really updated until now. I hope you liked 'the Lovely Wounds'. Give me your feedback. Thank you so much for reading this. I could totally do more, but I think it's time to put this story to a close. I'm going to write more SpaMano. Read my fic 'The Conquistador'. It's pirate based SpaMano. In the meantime, I'll think about writing another modern AU for SpaMano. Thank you again. Gravey out.))


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